


You Have Me On My Knees

by bkgrl



Series: I'm Not Calling You a Liar [5]
Category: The Originals (TV), Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 156,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bkgrl/pseuds/bkgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1492 AD Scrathclyde- The brothers travel to England to find the mysterious doppelgänger. The plan was so simple until everything began to unravel. <br/>---</p><p>"I'm going to die," she whispered, not looking at him, the realization flooding over her. If she died, Lilly and possibly Katerina would as well- Elspeth not far behind.</p><p>"All humans die, Love."</p><p>She shook her head, eyes glazing over, "You're right. How stupid I was to think I would be the exception."</p><p>"You'll always be the exception."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. riding high, when i was king

**Author's Note:**

> 5th Part in the ongoing I'm Not Calling You A Liar Series
> 
> \- Warning Chapters for this part of the series will be ridiculously long, i.e 30K plus words.

_Ridin high, when I was king_   
_Played it hard and fast, cause I had everything_   
_Walked away, won me then_   
_But easy come and easy go_   
_And it would end_

**_~Beggin', Madcon_ **

* * *

  **1492 AD**

**Scrathclyde, England**

"How did you come to make Trevor's acquaintance?"

Katerina smiled, fingering her goblet, "His family has lived on Lady Lockwood's lands for years."

"Yes, Lady Lockwood, our neighbor is noticeably absent from society."

Absent was to put things mildly. The Mikaelsons had been allotted their lands from Henry the VII, a year past, taking residence there in the last few weeks and had yet to see their widowed neighbor. Had it not been for Trevor, they may never have had a good reason to make a first pass at Katerina, meeting her in person, ensuring that she was the doppelganger. There was not a doubt in Elijah's mind that she was a Petrova descendent, the sight of Tatia, close to five hundred years later, painful.

"Lyanna is still in grieving, come early October it will be a year since her husband passed."

"Yes, we heard of Lord Lockwood, it's unfortunate. Did they have any children?"

"No."

Before Elijah could question her further, about her caretaker and, dig for relevant information, since Trevor had been so vague, Katerina interrupted, "And where is our host this evening?"

"You must excuse him. He likes to make a bit of an entrance."

As if on cue, there was stir from the other end of the large room, guest greeting an unseen man. As Katerina waiting for Niklaus's reveal, Elijah watched her.

 _She's not Tatia_ , he told himself and continued repeatedly as Niklaus introduced himself, catching Katerina's eye, sparking her interest as his brother had intended.

"Klaus," he asked her to call him. It was the new name he'd taken since returning from the east, years previous, cured of hallucinations and thin with the details.

The rest of the evening, he watched as his brother charmed Katerina. He played the gracious host to his guests as Niklaus made his move. But no matter how many times he would smile, make simple conversation and pretend he didn't care, he could already feel himself slipping back into the old ways.

He was foolish, just like Niklaus had accused him of being hundreds of times. He still remembered what it was like to feel, he still remembered what love was like. Months from now, when Klaus would be noticeably absent, withdrawn, ignoring Katerina, brooding over whatever it was that in the months to come would completely absorb his attention, Elijah would lie to Katerina.

He'd tell her he didn't believe in love, just as he'd tell himself that he'd forgotten what it was like and that it was for the best. And when she would reply, telling him that a life without love wasn't worth living, he'd think of the irony of their situation.

She would foolishly follow love straight to her own death. Niklaus would use her affection to get what he wanted most. And Elijah would spend all of eternity regretting that he hadn't said more.

* * *

 

"And how was it?" Lyanna questioned, tirelessly harvesting the Vervain that sprawled out over the south bound land past the estate, rows and rows as far as the eye could see.

"He's beautiful," Katerina answered cryptically.

"And who would 'he' be?"

"Lord Mikaelson." Katerina looked west, to the estate that could be seen over the last hill.

"Is that so?" she grunted, clearly doing most of the work as Katerina prattled on about some new infatuation she had. Having come from the south five months previous, she had more fled from her home than left on her own accord. Desperate to be rid of their scandal, Katerina's father wrote Lyanna in haste, clearly willing to separate from Katerina at any cost; he had offered her to Lyanna, a distant, newly widowed relative, as a companion.

Although not in need of such services, having Lilly, Lyanna accepted out of curiosity. What she found was a little more than what she originally bargained for. Katerina was more gregarious than Lyanna ever hoped to be. Three years her junior, she had arrived and quickly made her presence known, drawing men to her like flies to fresh meat.

For a widow that was a bit of a recluse, Lyanna found Katerina to be amusing, charming and although at times shallow, a good friend. However there were times when she worried about Katerina's influence on Lilly.

"If you ever left Greyshaw mayhaps you too would have seen."

"I had business to attend to."

"You are hiding out," Katerina teased. "You should hear how people whisper about you. You'd think you were an old crone, grey hair, wrinkles, and barren."

"Well I am an old widow," Lyanna snarked.

"Hardly. Elijah was asking after you."

"Elijah? Lord Mikaelson? The famed, Lord Mikaelson, the one you called," she paused for effect, "Beautiful, was it?"

"Yes, Lord Mikaelson, but no, his brother, however he is equally as pleasing."

* * *

 

"Is she the one?"

Elijah and Niklaus looked at one another before Elijah answered, "Yes."

Clearly pleased with himself, Trevor beamed.

"Her guardian was noticeably absent," Niklaus commented, looking out the window to the estate that sat cradled between the moors below the hill. They were too close now for obstacles.

"Lady Lockwood? I don't foresee Lyanna being a problem, she hardly ever leaves Greyshaw. Lord Nathaniel Lockwood, died a year past," to elicit interest he added, "Murdered…"

Lockwood, Niklaus hadn't heard that surname since 1114AD.

"They never found who committed the crime. There have been whispers however, that it was a pack dispute between him and Lord Harte. That Edmure killed Lockwood himself before he too was mutilated."

Edmure Harte had perished sudden and quite violently, his throat ripped out. No perpetrators found. A widower, his son died of fever when he was still a child. With no one to pass Harte's lands to, Henry the VII bequeathed his favor and the subsequent property onto his new friends of the court, two brothers coming from the east, whom had quickly won the affection of the greedy old King.

"Wolves," Elijah sneered in disgust. The reek of them, carried by the wind, filled the countryside.

"Some say they have controlled the moors for three hundred years, back to the pagans."

"The pack, do they have a leader?" It would be only a matter of weeks, if not already, that they would become attuned to the new predators moving into their territory.

"No one knows. I do not speak with many werewolves," Trevor chided, "However, from those who do have loose tongues, it was rumoured that Nathaniel, before his death, was the pack leader. Now… it's anyone's guess, mayhaps the girl when she is old enough."

"A female pack leader?" Niklaus smirked at the ridiculousness, dismissive. "They have a leader. It would be best if we were aware of him before they are aware of us."

"And Katerina?" Elijah interrupted.

"Katerina Petrova," Trevor started, walking over to a window. "Arrived five months past, with no explanation from Lady Lockwood and no apparent plans to return to where she came."

"How fortunate for us."

"The men, in the local villages, they call it the Garden of Eden," he narrated, as all three men stared out over the moors at the Lockwood Lands. "Richest soil just south of the Solway Firth, no male heirs, a widow, living alone with young Lady Lockwood and Miss Katerina."

"Infested with wolves," Elijah murmured.

Trevor eyed Niklaus, with a look that couldn't be described as anything other than lecherous, before concluding, "Forbidden fruit and all…."

* * *

 

"Wouldn't it be simpler to invite them for the evening?"

Elijah couldn't help but enjoy watching Niklaus squirm as they prepared to enter the abbey. "No, that might seem too forward. Trevor assured me that they visit the abbey each Sabbath. It is a perfect opportunity for you to reengage Katerina."

There were few times that Niklaus wanted Kol there, his younger brother often too impulsive and irritating. But at that moment, he couldn't help but wish Kol could arrive earlier than expected, in time for this little outing. Perhaps the only person who hated Catholic services more than Niklaus was Kol, whom had little patience for any occasion that called for him to be still and silent for more than ten minutes.

It was difficult to say what it was exactly about Sabbath services that bothered Niklaus so much. It could have been the reek of incense as they entered the arched doorways, or the monosyllabic chanting of repetitive phrases. Most likely it was wasting an hour of his time, listening to a fat old man recite lines about an imaginary God and pretend to sit in judgment of the parishioners.

Sliding into the rough wooden pew, Elijah tapped Nikaus's knee nodding in the direction of the front of the abbey.

 _Of course,_ Niklaus thought, _This hag is probably some old brittle crone, whom is devoutly religious and plans to be annoying restrictive with Katerina._ From where they sat, he couldn't see, to refute his suspicions. All he could see was four sets of covered heads. If he strained he could make out bits of their profiles. Dark curly hair covered in heavy red fabrics, Katerina, along with black hair, straight and long, poking out from beneath black wool, possibly the younger Lockwood. Grey hair and wrinkled skin in moth, the Lady Lockwood he assumed. Then finally to the left, another, completely turned toward the pulpit, with nothing to see but dark green fabric; mayhaps a guest or a neighbour.

"Ridiculous," he muttered as he sat through two plus hours of yammering from the priest. For an individual who had lived over five hundred years, that service alone passed slower than the first two hundred of Niklaus's sorted life. To his utter disgust, Elijah seemed to be enjoying himself, listening intently to every word.

If he ever found the decedents of the fool who started this farce of lie about Jesus of Nazareth, he promised himself he'd wipe out their entire line, doing a charity for humanity.

When the service finally ended after the taking of the communion and its blessing, "I give you the body and blood of Christ," the friar announced, lifting the wine goblet to Niklaus' lips.

 _Blood, now that would be something to that could salvage even a moment of this wasted morning,_ he thought to himself. Perhaps, he'd treat himself to a snack, the widow Lockwood. The elderly were an interesting flavor for the discerning palate. Some vampires had no taste for it, preferring youth. Similar to how many could not appreciate a properly prepared, bottled, stored and aged wine, instead choosing the sweet, unpalatable sugar slush made from fresh grapes and inexperienced hands. The blood of an aged individual had an entirely different texture to it: the flavor bold and colored with experience, life, knowledge, not just the sweet rush of youth.

As the veiled ladies filed out of the abbey, Niklaus and Elijah stalked after them.

"Katerina," his brother called out, eliciting a sigh of excitement as Tatia's ghost turned to greet them. The sight of her was enough to make him question if he was hallucinating again.

" _You love me don't you?"_ Tatia's breath hot and begging against his skin, close to 200 years past when he'd indulged in, close to a half century of long forgotten heartache, lust and self destruction.

When he met her that first night, Niklaus had been prepared, reminding himself repeatedly that she was not Tatia. It was not the same person. Only an illusion, less real than the one he'd created, cherished and loved for 52 years.

Her face lit up as she saw Niklaus.

"Klaus, Elijah, this is Lilly Lockwood." The girl was young and quite attractive: dark eyes and hair and nice olive skin that looked so out of context in dreary northern England.

"And this must be Lady Lockwood?" He answered, kissing the back of the older woman's hand.

"No, that is Elspeth," from behind, "I am Lady Lockwood of Greyshaw, who wishes to know?" Anne's voice had jumped two hundred years, from the dust of bones to haunt Niklaus.

Both men turned, as if on cue, equally shocked at what they found. Had his brother not thought quickly and spoke first, Elijah might have reached out to touch her, making sure that she was real, calling her Hannah.

"Lord Mikaelson, my Lady," Niklaus chimed in, with careful effort to sound unaffected. Her hair might have been blond, not black. Her accent English, with undertones of the Anglic spoken this far north, not the fluidity of Italian or the more guttural Bulgarian, but she was still Hannah, Anne. The same blue eyes, stared back at him and Elijah, the same face.

They'd been the first to introduce themselves, making it strange the way they looked at her, as if she were interloping on some private moment of theirs.

"Elijah Mikaelson, Lady Lockwood," he offered, recovering, taking her hand, kissing above the knuckles. "We are your neighbors."

"It is you that has taken over the Harte Manor? Then I apologize. I should have come to make your acquaintance much sooner, since we are to be neighbors."

Something about the way he looked at her, it didn't feel right. The one whose name she didn't know, it was predatory.

"We wish to invite you to our home. We are holding a celebration for Lammas Day."

"That would be lovely," Katerina chimed in. But Lyanna said nothing, instead glancing at Elspeth. The old woman looked back at her, knowing what she felt. Elspeth knew Lyanna better than she knew herself.

"We have our own harvest," Lyanna answered, looking back at Elijah. She could see the girls rumple in response. Both Katerina and Lilly, so desperate for entertainment, attention, male affection but there were greater things at hand. They needed to be especially careful as of late.

"Surely, we can spare the day?" Katerina offered, looking desperately at both Elijah and Niklaus. Lyanna would have responded but her focus was redirected to the two men at the gates of the abbey watching them. She knew what they wanted. She saw the way they examined Lilly, unbeknownst to her or any of the rest of present company.

"If you will excuse me," she answered, moving around Niklaus and Elijah before either had time to respond.

Following Lyanna's cue, Elspeth offered, "Come girls. It is time for us to return home."

"Could we not escort you? We are after all, just over the hill." Katerina took Niklaus's arm, as Elijah offered his own to Lilly who blushed in response.

* * *

 

"Do not think I cannot see you," she cursed, in hushed tones, as she approached the men.

"Lady Lockwood, you look lovely this Sunday morning."

"You think you can threaten me?"

"Threaten?" The men looked at each other, "I do not remember threatening anyone."

"I know what you are doing Arthur. It will not work."

"What is your plan, My Lady? Keep her hidden at Greyshaw forever?"

Dropping her skirts, Lyanna's temper flared, "Step foot on our grounds and it will be the last time."

"And who will stop us? You?" He laughed, "A pack of women… mayhaps your witch?"

Ignoring their slight towards Elspeth, she continued, "You will never have her. Do you understand me? You can skulk in the shadows all you like. We will not be intimidated."

"Nathaniel would be disgusted with this, with you."

Pointing at both of them, her veil slipped from her head as she raised her voice, no longer caring who may overhear or be watching, "Do not tell me what Nathaniel would have wanted! He is not here now. And like it or not, Greyshaw is mine. Lilly is mine. The only way you will get to her is over my dead body."

"That can be arranged," Arthur's companion shot back, low enough so no else could hear.

Although the girls were out of earshot, a few parishioners were not, staring wildly at Lyanna. A look passed between Niklaus and Elijah who both could not help but eavesdrop.

Lowering her voice, as she was aware of their audience, Lyanna threatened, "Come for me Arthur, or Lilly and you will find hell." Plastering a fake smile on her face, she tugged the veil from her head, exposing her hair before answering for appearances, "Good day to you."

The skin of her neck had flushed pink from adrenaline. Veil in hand she did not bother sparing another glance at the men as she approached the girls, waiting for her at the carriage with the Mikaelson brothers.

"Is everything all right Lady Lockwood?" Elijah questioned, glancing back at the men.

"Yes, everything is fine. Girls," she waved at the cart where an elderly man from their stables waited for them, "It is time to go." As Lilly hopped in, Katerina assisted by Niklaus, Lyanna helped Elspeth.

"Thank you, Jon," she called to the coachman, stepping onto the foot peddle. Picking up her skirts, she went to climb in herself when a hand found her arm, "Let me assist you."

Niklaus smiled, as she stepped inside. He had meant it to be charming, gracious, courtly even, but something didn't feel right to Lyanna. Distracted, she nodded her head towards Elijah, "It was lovely to have met you." Elijah bowed in response. And to Niklaus, she didn't quite know what to say, not even knowing his first name. So instead, she shut the door, answering, "Good day."

As the carriage pulled away, Elijah said nothing, waiting for Niklaus's response. What the hell was going on?

"Seems we have a problem," his brother finally answered.

* * *

 

"When will Kol arrive?"

Looking through the stack of letters, Elijah answered, "Two, maybe three days."

"I should have never trusted him to bring the witch."

"He will come, Niklaus. She would only come with him."

"Could we not find another?"

"No, we both know we need Ines."

"I could have brought her myself."

"Yes, well intimidation does not always work as well as other means Niklaus."

"Kol and his witches," he snickered. The only thing more pathetic than Rebekah's obsession with love was Kol's persistent interest in witches, an entire female population that was repulsed by nature to his species.

"And Rebekah?" It had been close to three hundred years since he had last seen his sister.

"She has decided to stay," Elijah answered casually. Since Alexander and Finn, family relations had been more strained than usual these past three hundred years. Kol staying south, with Rebekah who was ardently avoiding Niklaus, not quite ever forgiving him, or maybe herself for Alexander or Finn.

Although he'd never say it, Elijah knew Niklaus well enough to know that a very small part of him was bothered by it.

"I think she's possibly a hunter," he commented breaking the silence.

"Are we talking about it now? Hannah?"

"Do not say that name. It is cursed," Niklaus answered, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Then what shall I call her?"

"It, that is what you should call 'It'. A problem."

"A hunter? Care to elaborate?"

He had never spoken of where he'd gone or what he'd done in those near two hundred years that they spent apart. Niklaus just returned, looking healthy, recovered, as if nothing had ever happened.

"The Five, when I killed them, were spelled."

"The map."

"No, beyond the map, for protection. It was transferred to me when they died, a curse. To break it, I had to find the last hunter."

"You killed all five hunters that night in the house by the Canal."

"There was apparently one more," he answered, taking a large gulp of wine.

"Hannah…" Elijah concluded.

"I found and killed her, the hallucinations stopped."

"Really?" Elijah responded, obviously not convinced.

"The witch, the one that explained how to eliminate the spell, she mentioned that it could be passed, possibly to a child. But when I brought her Hannah's body, she had said that the original spell had died with the girl."

"And you did not believe her?"

"No, I did. But she also said that there was something else. She thought another might have been cast. But she couldn't be sure. It seems the body needed to be alive to investigate further."

"So you left it at that?"

"No, of course not. Hannah had, had offspring. I found each child, their children, their children's children and took care of the problem."

"Apparently…" Elijah mocked.

Niklaus worried about telling anyone too much information, never quite sure who to trust- namely no one. But four hundred years and Elijah had never failed him, never betrayed him. Hesitating for a moment, he finally finished, "The last girl, a woman. I tracked her to Serres. She was dying when I found her, the plague. She had a son, no other children. She… she looked just like Hannah."

"Children often do look like those before them."

"No, not like this, it was the same face, same eyes, Elijah. I thought I was hallucinating."

Looking out into the night, to the estate that lay blanketed in darkness, somewhere below the hill, Elijah answered, "If she appeared as Lady Lockwood… you were not. I thought I had seen a ghost," he paused for a moment before continuing, "Similar to Katerina."

They never spoke of Tatia. The day they buried their mother, they had put it behind them. Her name might have been mentioned, once, maybe twice over the past four hundred years, but never in calm conversation.

"The resemblance is remarkable," Niklaus responded, "But she is not the same, Elijah." And they were all the better for it. Even if it was possible to have brought her back, neither would have wished to do so, not in sober thought.

"Are you sure she is a hunter?"

"It is the best theory I have at the moment."

"Then what do you plan to do?"

"Kill her, of course." But not before Ines arrived with Kol. He'd keep this Hannah alive first, so he could get some answers.

* * *

 

"You cannot keep her here, locked up forever."

Plucking the purple buds from each plant, Lyanna answered, with a smile, "Can I not? I have stayed here these last twenty some years."

"Yes, well you had Nathaniel…."

"Did I?" Neither woman had spoken of it since, the things they alone knew. Elspeth shook her head, commenting, "The girl I raised knew he loved her."

"That girl knew nothing else, Elspeth."

Why they bothered to speak of things past, neither knew. It only resalted old wounds.

"Mayhaps with the new lords over the hill…. Katerina seems fond of the lighter one."

Lyanna made a face, "And the wrong one."

"You prefer one versus the other?"

"I prefer neither. However, the darker one seems less, menacing."

"You're so insidious with your words."

"Truthful you mean."

As the women stirred the petals in to the cauldron of wine, letting the acidity dissolve the plant, Lyanna cleared her throat, "Elspeth, I want you to do it. I want you to spell Lilly."

Looking into the Vat, the old woman answered, "No, you do not know what you ask Lyanna."

"I do and I wish it be done."

"You ask me reverse a blessing from God."

"This is no blessing Elspeth, it is a curse."

"The wolves have protected this land, this family, for hundreds of years. Your own Mother, Gods rest her soul knew that. She brought you here to be safe."

"She left me, Elspeth." Crying, buried in the fog that had settled over the moors in the early hours of morning, a young Elspeth had found her. Just a toddler, her cheeks red, nose running, the child reached up to the barren, never wed woman, begging not to be left.

No explanation, only a name pinned inside the wrap the little girl wore. A name, a date of birth and nothing else. Carrying her back to Greyshaw, they looked for her mother but never found her. They tracked down Lyanna's surviving family, what little there was, but none wanted the little girl, already having too many mouths to feed. Leaving Elspeth the only gift she'd ever been given, a daughter. Raised next to Nathaniel and later Lilly, they treated her as a sister. They loved her like was one of their own, Nathaniel especially.

Like Adam and Eve, sharing the same rib. At times, after he died, Elspeth wondered if she should have done things differently. Should she have left the house, when Lyanna came of age? Should she have discouraged the relationship? The pain she could have saved the little girl she loved so much.

"You did not always feel this way, Lyanna. At one time you welcomed them into your home."

"And paid dearly for it," she answered frankly, clearly thinking of things past.

"You trade one evil for another. Brewing Wolfsbane, threatening the pack…. Better the devil you know."

"They will kill her, Elspeth. If she turns, they will kill her."

"And if she doesn't?"

"They will kill her regardless. Do you see them stalking us, watching her? They want this land. They want that stone and they do not want Lilly or I standing in their way."

"And what do you plan to do if they come for her, hmm? What do you plan to do if they come for you? What will happen to Lilly with you gone or Katerina?"

"Kill them…" she replied, flatly.

"And how do you plan to do that, my love?"

"I have yet to work that out."

Ladling the wine into different colored glass bottles, she continued her work as if she hadn't just threatened to eliminate some of the most important Lords, men of the court, her neighbors.

"Heavy is the burden of the shepherd that protects the flock," Elspeth answered, fearing for them all but mostly Lyanna. It wasn't fair. She hadn't gotten herself into this mess. She hadn't asked for any of this, the lands, the girls, the name, the responsibility. She was only a naïve girl who fell in love with the only boy she knew and would be forced to pay dearly for his sins.

"And stupid is the fool who slumbers peacefully in the garden with his enemy at the gates," Lyanna replied.

 

* * *

 

As they hiked over the hill, Kol arriving only days earlier complained, "Why must we do this?"

"To be cordial," Elijah offered.

"These women are recluses," Niklaus snapped, "Egads! Could it get any hotter?"

Mid August, it was unusually warm for northern climates, reminding Niklaus of the years they'd spent in Venetian summers.

"Seems a great deal of work to do…" Kol commented.

As they entered Greyshaw lands they could see figures huddled behind the massive estate in a garden that sprawled for more than a hundred yards.

"Behave yourself," Niklaus threatened, as Kol smirked in response. One could never know what would possibly pop out of Kol's mouth at the most inappropriate times. If Niklaus could be coarse with his choice of worlds, Kol was simply crass and unapologetic about it.

"We thought we might be of some assistance," He had said it loudly enough that four heads popped up from varying places within the wild overgrowth. Each strained in the heat.

Katerina hastily attempted to straighten her appearance, moving from rows of plants, "Klaus," she called out.

Lilly and Elspeth were next, shaking dirt and mud as best as they could from their dresses. Lyanna was the last to appear, coming from way in the back, she wiped sweat from her forehead, unapologetically, blade in hand, basket weaved around her arm. Covering her eyes from the summer glare, she watched as the women excitedly greeted the two familiar brothers and another new, young man.

 _Wonderful_ , she thought. It was not even nearly noon and they still had hours of work ahead of them. The last thing they needed was a distraction.

"Good day," she called out, dropping her basket.

As the blond woman approached, Kol caught sight of what Niklaus called the Lockwood Wench and found that his brother's short description was not quite forthcoming. He'd imagined an old brittle woman. Something more like Elspeth. Lyanna was quite the opposite, natural, slight, very attractive. Katerina was just as predicted, the spitting likeness of Tatia, eerily so. And Lilly, the young girl whose name he had yet to learn, could inspire all kinds of impure thoughts from a man, living or not.

Reflecting on the group of women, Kol felt lied to, if not misled by his brothers. He'd expected an afternoon of hideous boredom. Instead he had walked into a hidden feminine oasis.

"Lady Lockwood, we could not help but remember you said you would be harvesting today. We thought that mayhaps we might be of some assistance," Niklaus added, looking at her then Katerina.

Before Lyanna could graciously decline their offer, the girls vocalized their immense appreciation, leaving Lyanna to feel like a cad if she then denied them.

"Of course, that would be much appreciated," smiling, knife in hand, sounding polite but appearing less than inviting.

Looking at the plush overgrowth, Niklaus questioned, "And what is it that you are growing and in such bulk?"

"The standard," Lyanna answered, "Lavender, Rosemary… some Wolfsbane and Vervain."

As soon as she said the words Wolfsbane and Vervain, Niklaus withdrew his hand. Clearing his throat, "Strange combination to grow this far north. If I'm not mistaken, Wolfsbane and Vervain aren't native."

It was there again, the small alarms that sounded, when he'd look at her a certain way, as if it was too familiar, like he'd known her before or forever and not just met.

"Wolfsbane is common in some areas of Northern England," snapping a blue bud from the vine, she smelled the Vervain concluding, "The Vervain is not native. I had the seeds imported and as you can see it thrives in this climate," holding the flower out to him.

Not taking it, he smiled, answering, "And what purpose do they hold?"

Even though they had a captive audience, five sets of eyes watching, it was as if they were alone, locked in an interesting little game of questions and answers, trying to feel out the other's intentions.

"Medicinal."

"I know, no medicinal purposes for either plant," Niklaus replied, suspiciously.

"Have you read every book?" It was small, but he could see a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth as she effortlessly bantered back at his every challenge.

"Hardly…."

"If you had, you would know it has medicinal purposes."

"And what would those be?"

"Ridding the body of certain influences," she smiled, politely, sharply, poignantly, cutting him off before he could say anything further, "Well, if you will excuse me, I must return to work."

As she turned, walking back into the rows of plants, Niklaus followed her figure less than impressed. There it was, the silent challenge set. The beginning of their destined game of cat and mouse, tit for tat, antagonism that neither would seem to be able to escape, easily slipping into it whenever they were around one another. He didn't know it then, or maybe he did, but the Alpha male had just met an Alpha female, setting the stage for a poetic, saga of wills.

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck as she heard laughter sounding throughout the garden. It was Lilly, obviously enjoying herself with the younger Mikaelson. As the women spread out, returning to their work, the brothers seemed to each pick a Lady of Eden, the choices obvious, Kol with Lilly. Lilly beside herself to finally have a young man's attention all to herself and Kol infatuated by both innocence, naivety and what he didn't know then, but soon would be true, the impossibility of what would become their situation.

Niklaus had followed Katerina, west into the rows of plants, as she beckoned for him to follow, with a soft smile and a not so shy glance.

And Elijah, the studious, chivalrous, righteous Elijah, wasted not a moment finding Lyanna.

"Do you not have those who usually help you?" He questioned, cutting down the Wolfsbane, careful not to touch the overlying Vervain.

"You mean the emerers or demenses?" She laughed, "You will not find them here. We have little need for such extravagance."

"But women living alone…." he offered.

"Mayhaps I should correct myself, they choose not to harvest. It runs contrary to some of their beliefs." She was vague but Elijah knew what she meant. They objected surely to the Wolfsbane.

"If you don't mind me asking My Lady, how long has it been since your Lord Husband passed?"

"No, not at all. A year, this October."

"I am sorry to hear that. Young Lady Lockwood and Katerina must be a comfort to you."

Pulling her veil from her hair, blond curls spilled out over her shoulders. "Too hot," she explained dropping the heavy fabric beside the basket.

"Yes, they are a comfort. However," she started, looking back at him before her hand slipped, cutting her finger. "Oh," blood dripped onto her dress as she continued, "I wonder at times if I have taken on more than what I bargained for."

Sucking blood from the wound, Elijah stopped her, taking her hand, examining the finger, "And what do you mean by that?"

"Two young girls, unwed and an old widow alone."

Elijah laughed, drawing a piece of cloth from his jerkin, applying it to the cut, "I hardly think of you as an old widow. If you do not think it crass, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course."

"How old are you Lady Lockwood?"

Blond curls slid over her forehead into her eyes, as she looked down at her finger covered by his palm, "One and twenty."

Smirking, he brought her finger to his lips, "You are but a child, young and still beautiful."

"An old maid in these lands, where girls like myself wed young and in love."

There alone, buried in the rows of plants, that burned his senses to breathe, he looked at a woman whom had yet to see all the world had to offer, who considered herself old when she was still but yet a child. His part, in Niklaus's plan was only to entertain the widow as Niklaus drew in the doppelganger, Katerina- in Elijah's mind, Tatia- into his web of fictional love, affection and ultimately to her death.

What could it hurt, that he happened to find Lyanna interesting as well? Answering her comments, he quoted:

"Amor, ch'al cor gentile ratto s'apprende  
prese costui de la bella persona  
che mi fu tolta; e 'l modo ancor m'offende.

Amor, che a nullo amato amar perdona,  
Mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,  
Che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona..."

("Love, which quickly arrests the gentle heart,  
Seized him with my beautiful form  
That was taken from me, in a manner which still grieves me.

Love, which pardons no beloved from loving,  
took me so strongly with delight in him  
That, as you see, it still abandons me not..." )

Dante and so beautifully quoted. Laughing, she touched his face, a friendly gesture, in response to the kiss before answering:

"Through me you pass into the city of woe:  
Through me you pass into eternal pain:  
Through me among the people lost for aye.  
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:  
To rear me was the task of power divine,  
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.  
Before me things create were none, save things  
Eternal, and eternal I shall endure.  
All hope abandon, ye who enter here."

Reciting Dante back to him, flawlessly, Elijah was surprised to say the least. First, that she understood Italian without his translation and second that she was educated enough to read Dante and appreciate his philosophy.

"Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people," he responded.

"As one who sees in dreams and wakes to find the emotional impression of his vision still powerful while its parts fade from his mind - Just such am I, having lost nearly all the vision itself, while in my heart I feel the sweetness of it yet distill and fall," she chimed back.

In their own little world of sing song and literary repartee, they could have continued entertaining one another had they not been interrupted by Niklaus, "I've always found Dante to be peevish, boring even."

"Noioso?" (Boring?) Both Elijah and Lyanna questioned spontaneously.

"You speak Italian, Lady Lockwood?"

"Un peu." (A little.)

"Impresionante, españoles?" (Impressive, Spanish?) Niklaus questioned, less than amused.

"Da. Ein wenig Deutsch. Latinam legere. разбират български ." (Yes, a little German, read latin, understand Bulgarian).

"And the local dialect?"

"Claro."

Having found them hovering between the Vervain, Lilac and Lavender overgrowth, holding Wolfsbane in their hands, he rolled his eyes to find his brother, quoting Dante to the widow Lockwood, Hannah, Anne, his hunter and a curse itself. When she spat back some other obscure verse that only the stuffy scholars of literature would care about, he felt a burning urge to ruin the moment. He'd seen that look before from Elijah. He was enamored, impressed, teetering towards the dangerous edge of intrigued.

"And where did you learn this?" Niklaus asked, looming over her, blocking out the sun.

One moment, she was harvesting plants, the next quoting Dante with mayhaps the only intelligent man she'd spoken to in close to a year, his attentions ardent, he smile comforting, causing her to remember a time when she used to always feel that way. And then she was being bombarded with questions. From the man whose name she still didn't know.

"I'm not sure you and I have ever been properly introduced. I do not even know your given name."

"Nor I yours," he fired back.

He was bordering on the edge of glowering when she had turned on a level of social politeness that called for him to rise to the occasion.

"Lyanna."

"Niklaus, Lady Lockwood. However, those who are considered friends call me Klaus."

Without taking a moment to ponder further on that matter, she answered his previous question, "My late husband, we were educated together."

"Alongside one another?"

"Yes," she replied slightly irked.

"Why?" He questioned before considering that it may have been rude. Neither noticed, but as they continued their little exploratory confrontation, both Elijah and Katerina watched speechless.

"I would guess so that he did not have an ignorant wife. Mayhaps he wished to speak to me on matters that didn't involve birthing beds and mindless fodder," she sweetly snapped.

Intervening Elijah, stated, "You must forgive Klaus, Lady Lockwood. Where we come from in the east, not many women are educated."

"A shame," she answered, eying Niklaus.

Something about him itched away under her skin and made her want to scream. Lyanna couldn't pin point it, she'd never felt that way before. But something about this man made her instantly cautious, on the defense, ready to square for battle.

"Klaus, come," Katerina offered, diffusing the tension, as Elijah grabbed for Lyanna's hand drawing her back.

"Niklaus," she parted, refusing to call him Klaus. They weren't friends.

"Lady Lockwood," he countered, giving her a long look before he turned away. It was brief, lasting only moments like before. Niklaus would never know what it was that caused him to be so annoyed by Elijah's apparent attention, affection. Lyanna couldn't explain why the sound of Katerina's voice, laughing throughout the fields was like cold water being poured down her bare back. Neither knew it, but the beginnings of a complicated ardent affection, that teetered somewhere between desperate love and hate had begun. Even from those few short, sharp words.

As he let Katerina lead him back through the rows of plants, he listened to her mindless chatter for an hour, maybe more, while they harvested before he subtly began asking how she'd arrived at Greyshaw.

Ambiguous with details in the beginning she started to open up completely when he innocently asked her about Lyanna.

Looking both ways, as if someone would overhear, she answered, "She thinks no one knows but I overheard…."

Although her beauty may be remarkable, the memories so tangible that at times, Niklaus wished to do nothing more than to reach out and touch Katerina and cradle her close, whisper all the things he had imagined he'd once said and meant with love to Tatia. There were parts of her personality that he didn't remember the original having. He'd only spoken with her a hand full of times but Katerina seemed vapid, shallow, nothing like how he remembered Tatia. But 400 years and youth could play tricks on a man's mind, making even the most hideous of ghosts lovely in memory.

When she was sure she had his attention, she continued, "His death was not an accident." Why she told Klaus these things she didn't know. Lyanna was her closest friend, besides Lilly. She loved her. But something about him made her wish to tell even the most personal of secrets.

"He was killed…."

"Who?" Niklaus inquired, trying not to sound too interested.

"I do not know. But that is not even the most interesting part…."

At this point she had completely stopped attempting to appear as if she were doing any work.

"Yes…." He encouraged.

"I heard, that he was killed because there was an affection … a child," the irony of her speaking of such gossip when she once too had been, shamed and alone, then taken in by Lyanna.

"Yes?" he compelled.

"Some say that Lord Lockwood had a child by another woman. This woman was also married and her husband… righted the egregious crime committed against his wife."

As Niklaus considered her comments, trying to put together the pieces of conversation he'd overheard at the abbey, Katerina continued, "Lord Harte, sought to intervene and was killed. The child… no one knows. The woman came to Greyshaw demanding to see Lady Lockwood, making quite the scene after Nathaniel passed."

Quickly changing the topic, she questioned, "Tell me about yourself, Klaus."

Sparing with the details he entertained Katerina with polite conversation, taking his time to subtly weave the web he planned to trap her into. But even as he spun his little half lies, pretty fairytales, mindless compliments, all he could think of was Ines back at Harte Manor. Her request for him to bring Lyanna to her and the promise that mayhaps she could uncover the intentions of the widow Lockwood, the mystery of her appearance, so he could swiftly dispose of her.

When the men left close to evening, bidding the Ladies of Greyshaw farewell, Niklaus bent kissing Katerina's hand, watching from the corner of his eye as Elijah walked a little too closely to Lyanna. Had he not been busy eying the hunter, his brother and luring in the doppelganger, he might have caught the beginnings of the other piece of his plan that would eventually unravel: Kol and Lilly.

Like snakes, the three Mikaelson brothers had slithered into the Garden of Eden, entering Greyshaw, confident, unaffected and predatory. Looking to use and corrupt the ladies of Eve that inhabited that forbidden land. What each man would find would be nothing short of the separation of Adonis and Venus. For with their eventual sins against the love and innocence nurtured in the garden, as fitting punishment, they would forever be cast from it: banished East of Eden, into Nod, for the six hundred years that followed, never to return but always searching for a way back.

 

* * *

 

**1492 AD**

**Scrathclyde, England**

"Do you remember it?" Lilly asked as they watched the men disappear into dots.

"What?" Lyanna answered.

"What it used to be like... when we'd laugh. When we used to laugh all the time?" she replied, sadness evident in her voice as she wistfully looked after the Mikaelson Lords.

Greyshaw used to be filled with lightheartedness and love. Lilly was right, making Lyanna suddenly feel horribly guilty.

"Yes," she answered, to no one but herself, turning to find Elspeth waiting for her.

Alone, the kind old woman reached up, her fingers tracing the corners of Lyanna's mouth. "You were so full of light, Love. Still are."

Lyanna missed the laughter. She missed the simplicity but most of all she missed the illusion of love.

* * *

 

The bedding sunk down around Lilly, a warm hand and then a voice in her ear, "Lilly."

When she didn't stir, it became more persistent, "LILLY!" it commanded.

When her eyes popped open she found Lyanna staring down at her, smiling.

"What is it?"

"Lammas Day celebration," Lyanna answered, holding out a small thatched sack.

"Witch leafs," she tempted.

Shooting up from the bed, Lilly saw Katerina hovering in the doorway, a bottle of brandy in her hands, "Happy Lammas Day."

"I thought we used them all?"

"Hardly," Lyanna urged, "Come."

She slipped off the bed and followed Katerina. Bare feet padded along stone hallways and hushed laughter bounced of walls as the girls skidded into the kitchen. Popping the cork from the bottle of brandy with her teeth, Lyanna poured leaves into the three goblets.

"Too much, Lyanna!" Lilly warned.

"Hush," she snickered, watching the dried plants dissolve in the strong liquor.

As each took a glass, Katerina eyed the girls suspiciously, "What does it do?"

A wicked grin passed over Lyanna's face, "Opens the mind."

There was a moment more of a pause before the three women toasted, "Lammas Day," their voices echoed throughout the large cookery.

The brandy burned on the way down, bitter and hot. Katerina made a face, coughing.

"That tastes terrible."

"Just wait," Lyanna promised, pouring each girl a new glass. Shaking her head, Lilly tried to refuse. She had only had witch's leafs once before, months before Nathaniel died. When he had found out, he was furious that Lyanna had taken them with her. She never had more than one glass of wine and never brandy.

Refusing to take no for an answer, Lyanna filled her glass to the brim, challenging her. Katerina had already finished her second and was tapping the rim for her third."It is not as bad as I thought," Katerina mused , feeling the room growing warm and slightly fuzzy, the contrast of the colors around her starting to glow.

Both Lilly and Lyanna poured another brandy, "Is it warm in here?" Katerina murmured.

Opening the heavy wooden doors that led to the grounds, warm air poured into the room, barely a breeze in the warm summer night.

"Wait," Lyanna had almost forgot. Disappearing for a moment, she went down into the dark cellar, grabbing two bottles of summer wine that she and Elspeth had recently cured with Vervain and Wolfsbane leafs.

By the time she had made it back into the kitchen the girls had wandered outside, bare toes sinking into warm grass and the cold dirt of the garden.

With the bottle of brandy dangling from her fingers as she pointed up at the sky, Lilly bumped into her, Katerina questioned, "Are they not beautiful?"

"Do you see it? Lya…" Lilly answered, tracing the pattern of stars in the sky with her finger.

"Ladies," Lyanna interrupted. Holding up the bottles of wine she grabbed Katerina's hand, "Come."

Like children the girls giggled, their white shifts glowing in the full moon as they ran through the garden, stopping when they reached the woods.

"Lyanna, it's dark in there," Lilly warned.

"Hush, we have the moon," she answered, pointing up at the sky. The girls glommed together as they passed into the dense, darker woods.

"Lyanna, I feel funny," Lilly laughed.

"Good," she encouraged.

Katerina, trailed behind the girls staring off into the trees- at all the funny, pretty colors she was seeing.

"Katerina, hurry!"

Running to catch up, Katerina stopped when she saw water. Standing on the edge of the bank the women looked out over the lake. The water shimmered, like it was lit within. "What will we do now?"

Handing Lilly a bottle and setting her own on the rocks, Lyanna tugged at the hem of her shift, drawing it up over her head. "Go for a swim."

"Lyanna!" Lilly hissed, "What if someone were to see?'

"Who would see? Everyone is asleep," past midnight, not a body stirred from Greyshaw Manor in the distance. When the white cotton, fell to the uneven ground, Lyanna grabbed her bottle from the rocks, tossing the cork as she waded into the delightfully cooler water.

Unashamed of her nakedness, she looked over her shoulder, "Are you coming?"

Shrugging, Katerina slid out of her shift, walking into the water, leaving Lilly no choice but to join or be craven.

* * *

 

"Shh…" Niklaus warned Kol as they approached.

"What exactly is your plan?"

"Do not worry."

As the approached the great house, not a candle lit within, Kol asked, "Yes and why is that? How do you hope to get inside?"

"Simple," he replied, moving towards the stables, "Go to the stable master."

"And…?"

"Compel him."

"And no one will notice you stealing inside Katerina's room, dragging Lady Lockwood behind you out the door?"

Elijah smirked behind him, feeling just as sure as Kol that this plan was mayhaps not the best one Niklaus had ever had. However, this was their window, it was a full moon. They had their witch, found their doppelganger, would snag a wolf and be done with this whole business.

"Well, that is why we have you now isn't it?" Niklaus snapped.

Stopping for a moment, Kol scoffed, "Why must I be bait for hysteria?"

"You are the least valuable," he shot back.

When the reek of manure was strong, signaling that they were there, Niklaus was prepared to duck inside and find the old man, Jon, Lady Lockwood had called him, when they heard laughter in the distance.

It stopped them briefly, before maybe considering it as a fluke, when they heard it again. Had they been human it would have been indistinguishable, but without a doubt all three brothers had made out the same noise. It was surely laughter, female laughter.

Cocking his eyebrow, Kol headed off in the direction of the gardens, "Kol," Elijah called. But his younger brother ignored him, passing through the rows, towards the woods.

"This is why we cannot take him anywhere," Niklaus hissed as the men were forced to follow. Reluctantly the men passed through the woods, trailing after Kol as the sound of splashing water and female voices grew louder. Finally catching up to where Kol had stopped, still covered by the woods.

"Happy Lamas Day," he smirked as the brothers caught what had him grinning ear to ear.

In the full moonlight they could see them perfectly, their heads and shoulders hovering above the water. Light ricocheting off the glass bottles they raised to their lips.

Happy Lamas day, indeed. Although annoyingly deviating from his plan, Niklaus immediately began reconfiguring his strategy. This was much easier than entering the house. What the hell were these foolish women doing out in the middle of the night?

More laughter.

"Spirits," Kol chuckled, clearly realizing the same as his brothers that the women were drunk.

"What is it like?" Lilly questioned.

"What is what like?" Katerina answered.

"Being kissed…"

"That would depend."

Looking along the shore line, Niklaus tried to think of the best way to enter the water to retrieve the girls when he noticed it. Distracted by the bathing women before it was clearly evident to him now that taking the ladies by water would not be possible. Vervain plants sprouted up all along the shoreline, the reek of it heavy in the air, most certainly poisoning the water.

"On what?"

"Who it is that you would be kissing."

"What does it feel like?"

"Have you never been kissed before, Lilly?"

The girl blushed, more from the herb and drink than embarrassment at that point, "Who would I kiss?"

"Lord Mikaelson, mayhaps?"

"That would be nice," she answered wistfully.

Elijah looked to Kol who was clearly enjoying himself, beaming with cocky pride.

"No," Niklaus answered, knowing already what he was thinking. "Not part of the plan."

"What if I do it wrong?"

Katerina cackled, "That's why you practice first."

"Practice?"

"Well of course," setting her bottle on the little stone island that sat in the center of the lake, she reached out, pulling Lilly in. "With a friend."

"Lyanna?" Lilly questioned, but Lyanna was lost, hallucinating, tracking the "pretty fish" that swam below the surface of the water.

"I will not bite," Katerina teased, taking the girl's face in her hands.

Elijah glanced at his brothers. Niklaus seemed mildly amused, most likely plotting out the rest of the evening, how he would extract the ladies from the water that reeked of Vervain and Wolfsbane. Kol was completely enthralled, most likely forgetting that they did have a purpose for being there, besides gawking.

Although Elijah knew he should be the voice of reason, and felt slightly guilty for listening to their private conversation, Kol seemed disinclined to act gentlemanly, leaning forward as the women's lips touched, like a child grasping for a prize.

When they parted, Lilly looked back at her, wide eyed, "Was your tongue supposed to do that?"

Katerina laughed, "Yes."

"Oh, it was nice."

"All the things, I could show you to do with your tongue," Kol murmured, eliciting a stern look from Elijah- Niklaus ignoring him, still thinking of the best way to snatch the doppelganger and drag Lady Lockwood behind.

"Full moon, finding a wolf should be easy," he thought, tirelessly plotting away. Everything revolved around breaking the curse, breaking the curse. No time for mindless chatter and a perverted look at nude skin. He had bigger things to do.

"It will be better when it is a boy."

Needing little encouragement Kol began tugging at his tunic, ready to rip it from his head and show the ladies, Lilly, exactly how nice it would be, when a hand shot out stopping him, "One more move and you're dead. Can you not smell the water you fool?"

"I will take my chances," he answered hastily.

"Vervain," Niklaus snapped, the plants growing alongside the Wolfsbane, petals and stems dipping below the water's surface from the banks.

"Lyanna?" Katerina called.

"Hmm, what?" Lyanna answered, head popping up like a muskrat from a hole.

"Shall I kiss you as well?" Katerina's voice echoed off the rocks, perking Niklaus' attention, Elijah forgetting momentarily about honor as well.

"Oh, no Love, I am too smart to be seduced by your charms," she answered, splashing her with water before spitting out "Have you kissed Niklaus?" not sure why she asked. She didn't care. She was sure of it, she absolutely did not care.

Then why had she asked?

Katerina smiled, retrieving her bottle from the rock, taking a large swig, "Mayhaps," she replied cryptically.

Elijah looked to Niklaus who was suddenly quite interested in the conversation. A Cheshire grin on his face, guilty with knowing.

"Of course," Elijah thought. Niklaus had never been one for subtlety with women. He had probably pawed away at Katerina close to a half dozen times by now.

"Ooh, how was it?" Lilly pandered.

"Well…"

"Ew," Lyanna interrupted.

Kol snickered, a smile twitched at Elijah's mouth. Five hundred years and neither brother could remember a girl responding to Niklaus with repulsion.

"Please," he felt like refuting. If he wanted to he could easily seduce Lady Lockwood.

"It was nice," Katerina sighed.

"No, thank you," Lyanna disputed.

"Oh Ly, you know he is beautiful." Niklaus knew there was a reason why he liked Katerina, even though she could be tedious. At the very least the woman had good taste.

"If you enjoy tiresome bravado, unwarranted notions of superiority and ignorance, mayhaps," she commented, unimpressed.

'Unwarrented notions of superiority?' He had half a mind to risk the burn by Vervain and wade into the water, rip her body limb from limb and then see what she had to say about unwarranted notions of superiority. Clearly, Lady Lockwood was confused. He was the Alpha Male, period. He needed not to use bravado. It was fact.

"I think he's beautiful," Lilly chimed.

"You lie," Katerina taunted, Lyanna, "He is practically Juniper," she defended proudly, because he was hers.

Lyanna teetered in the water as she rose, damp blond curls falling over her shoulders, water glistening down her bare back. "You mean, Jupiter," she corrected.

"Yes, whatever it is called in those books of yours."

"More like equus fundus," she snarked, eliciting a roar from Lilly whom understood instantly.

It was settled. Niklaus had made up his mind. Lady Lockwood would be the first to go. Ines would have to make due with a dead body. As soon as she got out of that water, her seconds alive were numbered.

"Equus fundeas?" Katerina slurred, confused.

"Fundus," Lyanna corrected.

"What does that mean?"

"Horse's arse!" Lilly blurted out.

"He is not attractive. He is ignorant and stuffy and…." She was running out of words, so instead proclaimed, "I would rather kiss Jon."

"Ew!" The girls sneered. "He is so old. He has no teeth."

"Mayhaps he will not be so cheeky then."

"Well you will never know," Katerina answered, smugly.

"Mayhaps you will kiss Elijah?" Lilly hinted.

"You did seem to enjoy his company," Katerina added.

"Hmm… Elijah. Yes, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Lord Mikaelson," Lyanna pondered. "He is wonderfully sweet and intelligent."

"Too serious!" Katerina criticized.

"I like that," Lyanna defended. "No, I think he could be entertaining as well."

"Entertaining?" Katerina coaxed, alluding to a sexual nature, completely lost on Lilly but understood clearly by Lyanna.

Lyanna smiled, raising her eyebrows. The last time she had been touched by a man had been more than a year past.

"What do you think it would be like?" Katerina questioned.

"Alright, that is enough," Niklaus whispered, not willing to listen to another word., For whatever reason the last thing in the world he wished to hear was Lyanna's musing on what coitus would be like with Elijah. Turning he moved to go back into the woods. They would find their wolf first and wait the women out. Eventually they would have to leave the water.

Elijah beamed, his hands balling into fists at his side, listening intently, probably imagining things. Things Niklaus would prefer to pretend he wasn't imagining.

"Enough," Niklaus hissed again. But Kol and Elijah remained unmoved. Turning back, to force them to follow, he caught what his brothers were staring so intently at. As Lyanna pondered what it would be like to having Elijah kiss her neck, touch her breasts, look at her appreciatively, she'd risen further, the edge of the water hovering at the base of her spine.

Showing much more skin than they'd seen of the other women, water slid down her back, dripped from her long blond hair. If Niklaus had a heart it would have stopped as she slowly turned.

He disliked Lady Lockwood, everything about her made him want to shake her, till her neck snapped from force, drain her dry while she cried out in fear, apologizing for every time she was ever stupid enough to challenge him. But as his eyes followed the curve of her breast peeking into view, he felt his body instantly react, without his approval.

Plans, he had plans. What the hell were his plans again? All murderous thoughts of proving a point with the bold woman, finding out the mystery of the reappearing hunter, using the doppelganger, breaking the curse, momentarily flew out of his mind.

"Well I think," Lyanna started, biting her bottom lip, "He might be gentle."

Elijah swallowed, his breaths labored. Kol's eyes bugged out of his head, his tongue passing over his lips. Niklaus did not consider himself jealous. He would just as soon pass any woman he fucked on to the next man as soon as he was done with her. And he was sure that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Lyanna. He was going to kill her gladly, as soon as his witched solved the resemblance mystery.

Why the hell would he be jealous?! He, Niklaus Mikaelson, soon to be the most powerful walking creature on the planet, indestructible, greater than even fucking Jupiter himself. He did not need to be jealous of anyone or anything. He hated this woman, in more than one lifetime.

But as her breasts came into the full view, rational thoughts fell into a dark abyss of idiocy, never to be retrieved. He forgot how much he detested her when his mind instead instantly began wondering what they would feel like in his hands. What she smelt like up close. As soon as the thought passed through his mind, before he could internally chastise himself, he became keenly aware that his brothers were watching the same thing, most likely thinking the same thoughts.

Ridiculously acting on instinct, like an offended mother, his hand shot out, covering Kol's eyes, a gesture so pathetic in its childishness that if Niklaus was thinking straight he'd be disgusted with himself.

Undeterred, Kol peeled his fingers apart, looking through the small slit of allotted space as Lyanna continued, "Mayhaps…" she laughed, coming out of the water further, sliding onto a rock, beaching herself like a water nymph, fully naked for the viewing.

If he could reach Elijah, he'd be attempting, like an idiot, to cover his eyes as well, stifling whatever ravenous thoughts he was conjuring up. And then promptly attempt to close his own and refocus on the plan.

None of that was happening.

"He would take his time…." Undoubtedly Elijah was taking notes. Pondering all the different ways he would, if given the opportunity, to be attentive to the Lady Lockwood as she lay under him.

Struggling with Kol, the word 'stunning' was drifting through the subconscious recesses of Niklaus's mind. He remembered see that body once before. Shaking with fear and innocence as Hannah foolishly gave herself to him. He didn't remember having such greedy lecherous thoughts at the time.

But Hannah never touched herself like that. When Lyanna's hands snaked down over her sides, sliding over her hips and legs, Niklaus was absolutely sure of one thing, Elijah would never touch Lyanna.

"Mine," a childish voice, recited in his ears. His mind had plunged into a fully fledged fantasy world, of all the different ways he wouldn't be gentle with Lyanna. All the ways he would plan to have her, pull her hair, listen to her moan, and recant every word she'd ever uttered about him.

"Oh, you mean…?" Lilly finally seemed to be catching on.

"How was it… before?" Katerina questioned, pretending to be innocent and unknowing on matters of sex when both her and Lyanna knew that was not the case.

Lilly seemed to cover her ears, not interested in hearing about her brother.

Two things now, Niklaus did not wish to hear: Lyanna's musings on being seduced by his brother and what kind of lover her former dead husband was. Both were dark clouds, unwelcomingly edging its way into his little fantasy world. Threatening confident notions that the mouthy blond would stupidly worship him, pathetically call him whatever he demanded, beg for more to which he could smugly deny.

"It was… kind, comforting, lovely," she answered nostalgically, for a moment hinting at sadness.

Her legs dipped back into the water, her hair falling over her breasts.

"My fingers are wrinkling, "Lilly hiccupped, looking at them in the moonlight.

"I am empty," Katerina pouted, holding up her bottle, looking through the small hole and seeing the bottom.

At this point the women were thoroughly intoxicated, no longer even feeling the chill of the water.

"More?" Lyanna questioned.

 _'The last thing, they needed was more,'_ Niklaus thought. They couldn't have made it any easier if they tried. They'd most likely have to lean on one another to stumble back to main house. They didn't stand a chance for survival.

"Yes," the girls answered.

Pointing to their clothes where they laid hidden on the shore, Lyanna slurred, "Tooo the huse-house."

Stumbling, the girls' half swam, half walked, to the shore line, before disappointingly disappearing out of view as they slipped their shifts back on.

Nodding in their direction, it was clear that the show was over and it was time to return to business. Niklaus sniped, "Shall we?"

As the brothers moved to complete the task that had originally brought them to Greyshaw and had led them to Scrathclyde England, the ladies had headed out before them, wandering back through the woods.

It was a simple plan. It was an easy execution. The only problem was that Niklaus didn't count for the outlying variables. It happened before any of the men had time to react. They smelt it first before the scent was shortly followed by a screaming cry, reverberating throughout the woods.

How would they explain how they'd arrived in the woods, why they were there, any of those variables, would become a problem later. At the moment, the only thoughts rushing through Niklaus's mind were that some idiot wolf was slaughtering his doppelganger, ruining his chances for the next 500 years.

Some idiot that was sure to die, painfully for their error. He found them before the screams could be sounded, huddled together. Someone was hovered over something sprawled out on the ground, the third nowhere to be found.

"Lilly! Lilly!"

A beast curled on its side, snapping at the air.

"What happened?" Bewildered Katerina whipped around, to reveal Lilly bleeding on the ground, her head in Lyanna's lap. With Niklaus arriving before Elijah and Kol, Kol rushed forward to see who was killed when Elijah's hand stopped him, hovering just out of view as Niklaus bent towards the body on the ground.

"Lilly…" Lyanna panted, tearing her damp shift looking at the wound.

"What happened?" Niklaus repeated. So caught up in the moment, Lyanna ignored him, not caring whom he was or why he was there. Lilly's eyes were fluttering open and closed.

It was Katerina that finally answered, "That thing attacked us!"

"Lilly, can you hear me?" Lyanna urged. The puncture wounds were deep but not fatal.

"Yes," she answered. Niklaus rose, walking over to the beast still twitching on the ground, life leeching from its body.

"It's dead," he commented.

"Am I going to die?" Lilly questioned.

"No," Lyanna soothed, pushing hair back from her eyes.

"What was that?" Katerina cried, huddling closer to Lyanna, shaking.

It was then that Lyanna looked up, noticing Niklaus standing there.

"An animal," she answered, unemotionally.

"There are wolves in these woods?" Katerina looked around foolishly.

"Yes."

"What stopped it?" She pointed to the dead beast, tears rolling down her cheek in scared confusion.

"I do not know," Lyanna lied, looking at Niklaus, whom for whatever reason she knew, knew that she was lying. They both knew very well what had killed it: Wolfsbane. Enough of it flowing through Lilly's system that the werewolf hardly had time to sink its teeth into her and let her blood pour into its mouth, before the poison had begun to take its effect. Maiming the animal and stopping him in his tracks as he doubled over in death.

"Let us get you home," Lyanna comforted, looking to Katerina to help her lift Lilly up, but Katerina was still too in shock. Taking the lead, Niklaus bent forward, picking Lilly up from Lyanna's lap.

As he carried her back through the woods to the main house, Katerina clung to Lyanna, shaking like a leaf, still hallucinating from the witch's leafs sure that at any moment they'd be attacked again. Lyanna hovered somewhere between intoxicated and harshly sobering up.

Kol and Elijah trailed behind, out of sight, unsure of what to do next.

"Why do we not just take them now?" Kol questioned.

"I do not know."

* * *

 

When they had cleared the woods, passing over the hills and eventually moving through the gardens, Elijah and Kol stopped not willing to wander out further from fear of discovery.

Lilly trembled against Niklaus, wet, in shock and scared. Her face tucked against his chest, the Vervain laced water burned Niklaus as it soaked through his clothing, making it uncomfortable at best to continue carrying the girl, acting unaffected.

When they arrived at the doors that lead into the kitchen, Katerina rushed inside, followed by Lyanna who waited for Niklaus to carry Lilly inside.

"Elspeth!" Lyanna cried out into the house. "Katerina, go get Elspeth immediately," she ordered. Obeying Katerina stumbled off into the large Manor searching for the old woman.

Niklaus hovered at the doorway, unable to enter without an invitation. Brushing pot and pans, vegetables and odd items to the ground with a clatter, she called out to Niklaus; "Put her here," as the house began to stir.

But Niklaus didn't enter; he stood just beyond the threshold of the door. Annoyed, Lyanna looked at him strangely, "There, please," she asked again, but still he did not move.

"Come in, Niklaus and please put her down." Finally given permission, he stepped inside the backdoor as Katerina arrived with Elspeth.

"What happened?"

"Wolf," Katerina stammered.

Elspeth looked up alarmed at Lyanna, as Niklaus laid Lilly on the table.

"I'm fine," Lilly answered weakly, patting around for Elspeth's hand.

"What happened to the wolf?" Elspeth answered, looking to Lyanna, fear passing palpably between them.

"Dead," she answered.

The old women's eyes went wide, before she looked down at the youngest Lockwood and began to work on her. She spent minutes cleaning the wound with water, then wrapping it, all the while thinking to herself, _So it has_ _begun_ , as the smell of Wolfsbane and wine hung heavy on the girl's breath.

She had never before worried that Lilly would be forced to turn, knowing all too well from Nathaniel and his father before him that to turn, you must kill a person first. Poor, sweet Lilly would hardly harm a fly, much less kill another human. Now, whether by her own volition or not it had begun.

The girls hovered while Niklaus stood in the background watching.

This was his chance. He had his invitation and they were distracted. He could easily kill the old woman and girl, grab Katerina, fend of Lyanna and send Elijah or Kol to retrieve her after. He had a plan. A plan that at the moment, under the perfect circumstances didn't feel right.

When Elspeth had finished, Lyanna looked at him, "Can you help us please?" Obliging, for whatever reason, he wasn't sure, he picked the exhausted woman up off the table and followed Lyanna and Katerina further into the Manor, down hallways and up stairs as they led him to her bedroom. After depositing the girl, Lyanna stayed behind whispering away in hushed tones things for comfort. Feeling awkward, he exited the room, Katerina trailing after him, "Klaus."

He hardly turned before she was on him, kissing him desperately, her still damp skin irritating his in the places they touched, her lips burning from the Vervain.

"Thank you," she cooed, hugging him tightly.

Uncomfortable, the thought again passed through his mind of grabbing her then and making a run for it. If there was one wolf in the woods, there would be others, easily drawn out by the sight of a vampire. They had at least another five hours until day light. It could still work. He could still finish this thing tonight.

The words came out before he processed them, "Good night, Katerina." Pulling away, his feet were motoring him down the hall, away from Katerina, his solution, Lilly and Lyanna… as fast as possible. All kinds of uncomfortable confusing sensations came over him, as his mind screamed, "TURN BACK YOU IDIOT! FINISH THIS!" But his body wasn't listening. Later he'd be mortified to realize that the sensations he had were 'feelings', such a terrible, dirty, pathetic word.

What was he to tell Elijah and Kol, whom undoubtedly would want to know what took him so long and why he'd changed his mind? He was prattling off some lame excuses to himself, bursting back through the kitchen, ready to exit the house when he heard someone yelling his name.

 _Keep moving_ , he told himself, not interested in having conversations with anyone at the moment and most certainly not with any of the women of Greyshaw nor his brothers, or himself and definitely , absolutely, without a doubt, NOT with Lyanna.

 _Lady Lockwood_ , he corrected himself in his mind, _Her name is not Lyanna, it's not even Lady Lockwood. Her name is Hannah, Pest, soon to be dead woman._

"Niklaus," she yelled out again, tracking him through the garden.

Damn that woman was persistent. And if there was one thing that annoyed him it was persistence.

"Will you not stop? Or will you make me chase you all the way to Harte Manor?" She barked. That stalled him in his tracks. The last thing he wanted was to listen to her irritating voice bellowing after him over the moors, in stereo.

"Yes!?" He snapped immediately, turning around, as she plowed into him.

Pushed back, Lyanna caught herself, panting, "Jesus!" she cursed, "Must you always be so difficult?"

She looked an absolute mess, wet hair plastered against the side of her face and dirt smudged her legs. Blood caked her hands, arms and neck, staining her already soaked shift.

"I did not know I was. My apologies," he glowered, trying to clearly give the impression that he was not interested in whatever words of thanks she may have or other insults she may be conjuring up. He was working on a few rather biting ones himself, when he noticed that she was practically naked, standing in front of him panting, in a wet translucent shift, covered in blood.

Hello lewd uncontrollable thoughts! Blood, hips, beautiful pink nipples, a clearly visible naval, damp hair between her legs-

"Excuse me," she interrupted, clearing her throat, pulling the material off her body, hastily trying to cover herself.

"Yes," he blinked, back to his point. Insulting Lyan- IT, (he corrected himself again), getting rid of IT, rendezvousing with Elijah and Kol and reconfiguring the plan. "You were about to thank me."

"No, well…ye- What were you doing in the woods? You weren't- How did you find us?"

"I heard screams."

"In the woods?"

"Yes."

"Why were you in the woods?"

"Why were you in the woods?" he fired back.

"Never mind why I was in the woods, they are part of my lands."

"Yes, well that is debatable."

"It is not! Those woods," she pointed, "Have belonged to the Lockwood family for over a hundred years."

"And you are not a Lockwood."

Flabbergasted, she dropped her shift, "How dare you!" she shot back with authority.

Authority? He wanted to laugh. If she was aiming at authority and being taken seriously, she was failing miserably as she stood in front of him naked, again.

"These lands are mine."

His eyes slid down over her breast, poignantly this time, just to humiliate and throw her off track. It worked as she pulled the material forward, attempting again to cover herself, "You are not a very noble man," she accused.

"I never claimed to be," he laughed shortly, cutting her off. Her eyebrows wrinkled together in disgust. Did Hannah make those same faces? He couldn't remember. If she had mayhaps he would have found her more amusing.

"Why were you in the woods?"

"I was unaware these entire woodlands belonged to the Lockwood estate."

"Well, they do."

"Then I will note that for future reference." She shifted uncomfortably, bare feet sinking into dirt, shivering.

"Are you cold, Lady Lockwood?" It was horribly rude of him to point it out, glancing at the outline of her nipples poking out through the shift, confirming his suspicions.

Her cheeks flushed pink, "You are a horrible man!"

"That is the thanks I get?"

Again with the eyebrows, if she wasn't so damn mouthy and annoying he would almost find it endearing.

"You are welcome," she snapped.

"I'm welcome?" He questioned.

Flustered, she corrected herself, "I mean, Thank you!" She practically yelled.

He smiled, smugly, "No thanks needed."

She wanted to explode. All of that, and she gets, "No thanks needed?"!

A long pause passed between them. This should have been the point where he continued his journey and she returned home, but neither moved, as she was unwilling to let him get the last word, trying to think of something to say. Unfortunately nothing was coming to mind. Finally she settled on, "Good Lamas Day to you!"

"Indeed."

She wanted to scream. Lyanna wasn't particularly fond of violence but she wanted to lurch forward and smack the smirk from his face. Why must he always have the last word!?

Narrowing her eyes, nodding her head, she turned heading back to the house, fuming. Why? She wasn't quite sure.

In the end Niklaus found himself smiling, like a damn fool. He'd won and gotten the last laugh, admiring the view greatly as she left.

It was too late now however. He would never have enough time to track down a wolf, collect Katerina and kill Lyanna. He needed to find out the mystery of the familiar face (if she was a hunter), torture her for a little while before, possibly eliciting that same annoyed look on her face for his own satisfaction before killing her.

He would now have to wait another 31 days until the next full moon. Damn werewolves. Damn the Lockwood women. Damn Lammas Day, liquor, interesting distracting, female chatter. Damn Vervain. Damn uncontrollable, entertaining thoughts about soft feminine curves paired with snarky words. Damn strange unfamiliar feelings.

Damn Lyanna (fine she could have a name) Lockwood!


	2. come on love, draw your sword

_Come on love draw you swords_

_shoot me to the ground_

_You are mine and I am yours_

_Let's not Fuck around_

_Because you are the only one_

_Yes you are the only one_

_**~ Draw your swords, Angus and Julia Stone** _

* * *

 

**Scrathclyde, England**

**1492 AD**

"Will she recover?" Wiping sweat from Lilly's forehead, Lyanna looked past Katerina to Elspeth, silently relaying her concerns.

"Come, Love. You must be exhausted," Elspeth coaxed, trying to direct Katerina from the room.

"No, I will stay with Lyanna and Lilly."

"No, it's not necessary," Lyanna urged, attempting to sound confident. Katerina hesitated for a few moments more before leaving, thankfully before Lilly writhed and moaned, her body contorting strangely, nails scratching at the linen sheets.

It was starting already, her turning, tampered briefly, but now conflicting, with the Wolfsbane. As the herb served to both slow her transformation, it also posed a threat, poisoning her transforming body as it coursed through Lilly's veins.

When Elspeth reentered the room, Lyanna questioned, "What should we do? It's making her sick."

Elspeth shook her head, unsure, "This is why we should not have grown the Wolfsbane. A Thiarna, déan trócaire orainn," she prayed, crossing herself. (Lord, have mercy on us). The old witch continued praying and murmuring to herself as both women watched Lilly's reactions intensify, in horror.

Nathaniel was never like this. Although Lyanna hadn't been there when he turned and at the time his blood hadn't been poisoned with Wolfsbane. She should have asked him more questions. She should have made him explain everything to her. She should have listened to him when he suggested that they send Lilly to his relatives outside Venice to stay.

It was too late now. Lilly was going to turn and there was nothing Elspeth or Lyanna could do about it. From what little Lyanna understood, she knew Lilly wouldn't completely transition until the next full moon, if she made it that long.

"Blood?" Lyanna questioned. Once, close to two years past, he'd bitten her on accident. In the heat of the moment, without thinking he sunk his teeth into her but stopped when she cried out in pain, realizing what he had done. Then Nathaniel had simply explained that it was an urge. The closer they got to a full moon, the more they craved it, needed it even.

"You will likely incite her," Elspeth warned.

"Anything is better than this."

"You're blood is poisoned as well, Lyanna. You will not help her." That was the problem, all of their blood was poisoned, hers, Katerina's, Elspeth. They all drank the same teas, the same wines, all laced with a lethal concentration of Vervain and Wolfsbane.

"Jon…." She feared asking any of the other servants to donate. They wouldn't understand, they'd be scared, confused. Only Jon wouldn't ask questions, because only Jon knew. More than he should. Having been with the Lockwood's since he was a child, he was well aware of the family's secret, mayhaps no more, than when he'd drug Nathaniel's dead body into the house, close to year past. Watching quietly as Lyanna fell apart, gathering her dead husband, best friend, into her lap, trying desperately to revive someone who had long since been dead- neck snapped.

Elspeth seemed unsure, but followed the request leaving to gather the old man.

"Shh… I promise Lilly. I promise this will only be for a short time." The illness, yes but the sickness, the curse that had been laid upon her, that was for life.

It wouldn't be long until now and she knew it. News was surely spreading: plans being devised and set in motion. Their little world etching closer to become precariously more threatened as the pack would become bolder in their intentions.

* * *

_"Nik," feet splashed through a river that ran red with wolves' blood, black hair blowing behind her. And laughter, the sound he'd forgotten from almost four hundred years past._

_"Do you love me, Niklaus?" Blue eyes stared down at him, white skin rising under thirsty hands._

_No he didn't love her._

_Water slid down her as she crawled onto the bare rock, wet blond hair spilling over shoulders._

_"Do you want me, Niklaus?"_

_Yes, he did want her._

_"Do you fear me, Niklaus?" blue lips questioned as Anne's tired eyes looked back at him._

_No, he told himself. He didn't fear her._

_"Do you miss me, Niklaus?" His brother's hands ghosting up her sides, Elijah's mouth on Hannah, who morphed into Lyanna, making him feel sick._

_He didn't know. He hated her. How could you miss someone you hated?_

_"Do you need me, Niklaus?" Hannah knees digging into his sides, dagger in hand._

_His mind said no, but something else answered yes._

_"Will you leave me, Niklaus?" Lyanna again, disappearing through rows of plants as he desperately tried to follow._

_It seemed she always left first, without his permission._

_"Do you remember me, Niklaus?" The women held each other, Lyanna's hand wrapped in Hannah's hair, kissing her cheek, Anne's hand resting on Lyanna's waist, on cue, their stares focusing on him._

_His eyes snapped open. He'd been drifted to sleep, in the chair by the fire. Damn her. It was the second night in a row that he'd had that same dream._ _And it would not be the last._

* * *

 

When they road over the hill, they could see it, dozens of glass bottles, canters stacked in the back of wagon. Katerina stood idly by, chatting with Trevor on the edge of the garden, laughing as he tugged as strands of her hair, chased her playfully about.

A look passed between Elijah and Niklaus. They had a month. What were they to do with 31 days? They couldn't feed in the daylight, they hadn't intended on staying so long. And the temptation of Eden over the hill was too hard to resist.

Were they not still trying to lure in the doppelganger? It had been two days since they had last step foot on the Greyshaw lands, spoken to any of its inhabitants. That should suffice to be long enough to wait, clearing up any suspicion from the other night. Making their way over the hills, they dismounted the closer they got to grounds and garden.

"Klaus!" Katerina yelled out, waving, forgetting all about Trevor at the sight of the Mikaelson Lords. Smiling politely they dismounted, making pleasant conversation with Trevor.

"And what is this?" Klaus questioned pointing at the cart.

"Lyanna says they are spoiled. That they should be disposed of before they make someone sick." The men looked at the cart full of harvested Wolfsbane, and other odd items.

"I thought it tasted fine," Katerina shrugged.

"And the other items?"

Emerging from the house, Lyanna heard the brothers before she saw them. Of course they would come on a day like this. A day when she was attempting to subtly rid the house of Wolfsbane, amidst Katerina's numerous questions and the servants knowing looks. All she needed was one more set of eyes to wonder, more ears to hear gossip and mouths to spread developments.

"Donations," she called out, throwing the last few items into the cart before pulling herself into the coachman's seat.

She didn't even both to look at them, poignantly she especially avoided Niklaus's eyes, still embarrassed by their encounter before. What had he been doing in the woods? Did he hear them? See them! Well it was too late now, he'd already practically seen her naked, making it difficult for her to attempt to maintain some dignity.

It was strange to watch a woman in skirts hoist herself up, grabbing the reins, especially a lady. Prompting both men to silently wonder if Greyshaw had servants at all, as the women seemed to do all work designated for those whom lowborn.

"A widow, that lives just south of here," she finished, trying to pull her skirt from the wheel, quelling the horse that seemed uninterested in laboring and keeping her balance at once.

"Here," rushing forward, Elijah bent to help her free herself.

The horse started to shift nervously, as her hands unknowing pulled against the reins too tightly. In quicker than a blink, Niklaus reached out, grabbing just below the bridal forcing the horse to submit.

"Do you have a stable master?" he barked. Two days and he couldn't deny that he'd thought of her a few times, imagined her perky breasts, perfect nipples peaking out under a wet white shift.

Handing her the end of her dress, Elijah smiled up at precocious blond as she blushed, returning his, thanking him softly.

"Gods…" Klaus wanted to snicker, annoyed. Could Elijah make himself any more obvious? It was pathetic, embarrassing really. He hardly knew the woman. Had spoken to her maybe a few times, seen her naked once (partially naked, Klaus ensured himself), overheard some random (alcohol infused musings) and now every time his brother looked at the widow Lockwood he could see the wheels turning in his mind, pining. Gods, they were vampires they shouldn't be pining. It was beneath them.

Clearing his throat to ruin their little moment, Lyanna turned answering, "Jon is not feeling well." In truth she worried that the blood he'd given over the past two days had weakened him permanently.

"Is there no one else?"

"I am sure there is, but it is really no trouble," she answered, attempting to hide her obvious annoyance at Niklaus's pesky questions.

"Are you going alone?"

Nonchalantly she nodded her head, yes, as she seated herself on the narrow bench. By the way she held the reins it was clear that the journey would end badly.

 _This is why women are not stable masters_ , Niklaus snidely, mentally noted. One quick jerk of the horses head and she'd completely lose control.

"You are going into the woods alone?" he questioned, eying her in a way that spoke volumes about the things he'd seen, the things that he clearly knew too much about and she wished to keep secret.

"Yes," she answered carefully.

"Are they not dangerous?" He toyed with her.

Interrupting, Elijah obliged, "This is most certainly a job for two. Let me help you." Before she could refuse, he countered with, "I insist," hopping into the cart. Easily she moved over for him, handing him the reins.

Before Niklaus could say anything more the cart heaved forward, Lyanna, gripping his arm. As they headed towards the woods away from Trevor, Katerina and Niklaus, Niklaus felt a strong urge to make some biting comment.

Stupid woman, heading off into the woods alone, she was likely to get attacked again.

"I think they make a lovely pair," Katerina mused, snaking her arm around Niklaus's.

"They are not a pair, Pet."

She smiled at the endearment. "However, they could be."

"No, they most certainly could not," Niklaus wanted to reply. Fuck her or feed on her perhaps, but court her Elijah would not.

* * *

 

The cart tossed and shook as they rattled through the broken path. Following her instructions they rode for close to twenty minutes before coming upon a homey little cottage tucked between the trees.

"And who lives here?"

"An old widow, Grace, her husband passed years before."

"And she stays here alone?"

"Yes."

"How melancholy," he remarked.

Lyanna smiled, "I think she prefers it that way. However, Trevor has been known to visit on occasion."

Trevor? Interesting.

"We used to come here all the time when we were children, Nathaniel and I," it was the first time she had mentioned her husband directly.

"Your late husband?"

Helping her from the cart, his hands slid down her back, as he could feel her pulse quicken. "Yes. We used to run all through these woods, swim in the lake, climb trees, until we didn't anymore."

Amused, he answered, "And why was that?"

"Ladies do not do those types of things." Reaching into the back of the cart, she procured a crude sack of a few items, candles mostly, a few bottles of wine and bread.

"I thought these were spoiled?" he questioned. Knowing full well that they weren't, he could smell the herbs mingled in with the fermented grapes.

"These are fine," she quickly answered.

Before he could question further the cottage door opened, an older woman with long grey hair, stepping out.

"Lyanna!" she called. She hobbled out to them.

"I have brought you a few things, Grace."

The old woman looked at the packages before she addressed Elijah, "You are too kind, My Lady," she murmured, digging through the random items before allowing Lyanna to introduce her to the strange young Lord that accompanied her.

"I have known Lady Lockwood, a long time. Did she you tell you that?" The old woman questioned as Lyanna carried the items inside for her.

"Yes, she mentioned it," Elijah replied offering her, his arm.

"She was a sweet girl, beautiful girl," she baited none too subtly.

"She still is…" Elijah accepted.

"Elspeth has a way of taking good care of her, the Manor, all of them now that Nathaniel has passed. However, a woman could always use another hand…."

"Grace," Lyanna called from inside the small hut, "Where would you like me to set these?"

As the old woman entered the small doorway, Elijah hovered outside. When Grace motioned for him to come inside and still he did not enter, she looked at him briefly for less than a moment, before inviting him in.

Cramped, he watched as the old woman glowed with excitement at every item she pulled from the sack, "Candles Lyanna. Wax candles."

It took little examination for Elijah to notice that leafs had been dipped into the wax, Wolfsbane. When burnt, the wax heated would undoubtedly give off a scent; fill the air with irritants for unwelcomed guests. Smart, very clever he noted.

"We had too many."

"And wine? I hardly partake anymore."

Eying Grace closely, as if to convey some private message, that Elijah was already clued in on, she responded, "Just in case."

They stayed for a while longer, carrying on pleasant conversation with the obviously lonely woman. Before long, Lyanna rose, announcing that they couldn't impose any longer. As they left, Grace followed them out the door, watched as they climbed into their wagon and headed North back through the forest.

Breaking their brief silence, "If you do not find it too bold, may I ask a question?" he started.

"Yes."

"Why is it that those whom live on your lands, work for you, call you by your given name? Do you not find it inappropriate?"

She paused, considering her answer before she finally responded, "Before my late husband passed, all I was called was Lady Lockwood. But when he died… things changed," another long pause, as if she was considering what and if she should say more. Finally she continued, "I had no children, Lilly is not wed and there are no males left in the Lockwood line. Some do not consider these lands mine or me a Lockwood. Those who shared that opinion left our home, or do not recognize Lilly and I as Nathaniel's heirs. Those who have stayed, remained loyal, have known me since I was a child. It seems foolish to demand more from them than they have already given."

"But you are Lady of these lands."

"To be a Lady you must be born a lady and I was not." It was awkward having a conversation so personal with someone she hardly knew. Things she hardly even discussed with Elspeth or Lilly before.

"You wed the Lord of these lands. Are you are not, by law of King Henry, Lady of Greyshaw?"

"Lowborn orphans make wives, perhaps, but not ladies," the horse had slowed considerably as she pointed in direction of a small stream.

Interesting, small pieces of things they'd picked up, murmurings throughout the village and neighbors coming together.

"How did you come to be at Greyshaw Manor?" Stopping, he helped her out of the wagon as they moved to collect bottles from the back.

"I was found," she answered, without making eye contact, walking to the stream. "Elspeth found me wandering the moors, crying, she said." Uncorking the bottle she poured the dark, rich liquid into the water. "No mother, no explanation, just my name pinned to my clothing."

The smell of Wolfsbane and Vervain filled the air, irritating Elijah's senses for a moment.

"I had a few relatives, none that wanted me. They never found my mother and Elspeth wanted a child. I wandered here, I guess, or was left and have not gone since," she paused watching the clear water run red, "Pathetic story, now that I hear it out loud, is it not?" she joked.

"Depends whom you ask," he answered gently, hinting at his sympathies.

Quickly changing the subject she questioned, "Your brothers. Has it always been just the three of you?"

"No we have a sister, Rebekah."

"And your mother and father?"

"Passed."

"Your sister? Is she at Harte Manor as well?"

"No, she stays with family in Spain."

"You're not like your brothers," she answered abruptly, making eye contact with him for the first time in awhile.

"In what way?"

"Many," she answered ambiguously, "You are not so, bold as your brothers."

"Mayhaps appearances can be deceiving," he offered.

What she wanted to say was that he was gentle although she didn't wish to insult him, but it was true. Although she didn't know much of Kol, there was a clear contrast between Elijah and Niklaus. There was something reserved about him, refined. She felt comfortable around him. As if they had known one another for years and were old friends. Everything about him was like taking a deep breath, so easy, not confusing.

Niklaus was quite the opposite. Every word his said seemed to come out crude and accusatory. There was nothing gentle about him. He looked at her as if she'd committed some egregious crime against him. And every word from his mouth dripped with condescension, leaving her to replay each conversation afterwards in her mind, furious that she had not said more, matched his directness, confused and inevitably irritated. Even in their few encounters she felt as if she spent the entire time, holding her breath, heart racing.

"He seems to be quite taken with Katerina," she offered, hinting at Niklaus, immediately regretting it afterwards. Why should she care?

"Katerina is a charming woman."

"Yes, indeed," she answered, looking down.

"Lyanna…"

"Hmm?" She could feel his fingers touch her shoulder, requesting her attention.

They looked at one another, a pause between them, Lyanna's stomach fluttered, as he leaned forward, tucking strands of hair behind her ear, his lips gently pressing against hers. It was soft, simple, non-demanding. Everything that Lyanna thought it would be. Taking a chance, before he pulled away, she parted her lips, giving him permission as she could feel his tongue trace her bottom lip. If she were still a maiden, it might be scandalous being alone in the woods with a man, kissing him. But without witnesses and no longer claiming to be innocent, she welcomed him further as his tongue brushed against hers, something knotting in her stomach. Breathing, she felt like she were finally breathing.

They had been kissing maybe a moment, it could have been an hour, or just happened but Niklaus was quite sure it had gone on long enough. Not sparing subtly or even courtesy, he curtly cleared his throat. Interrupting the couple as Elijah pulled away and Lyanna continued to just stare at him.

"I was concerned. It will be sun down soon. We thought that mayhaps you may need some assistance." Katerina looked to Lyanna apologetically and approvingly all at once. Lyanna appeared more or less perplexed.

"No, we are just finishing," Elijah answered coldly.

Grabbing the horse's reins, he offered to help Lyanna up into the cart, but she politely declined.

"Let us walk."

Although they were yards ahead and Katerina was prattling on about something, begging for him to chase her, Niklaus found his attention, more his hearing, drifting back to the conversation taking place behind them. Elijah was spouting poetry and she was eating it up, replying in kind- making Niklaus nauseous with their blatant affection. He'd attempt something funny and she'd laugh. Only Elijah wasn't funny and neither was she in need of assistance when his free arm reached out, offering her it as they made their way over an uneven path.

The whole thing was too cliché for him, too human, annoyingly saccharine sweet in its genuineness. Like a tick, a consistent high pitched noise growing louder by the moment. Making him wish he'd continued his exploration of Katerina earlier as she seemed eager to oblige or possibly left the Lockwood lands all together, went into the nearest village and found his next meal.

As they passed out of the woods onto the lands, both Elijah and Lyanna stopped behind, continuing their conversation. When Niklaus excused himself from Katerina, gathered their horses and headed back towards the garden, he caught them again. Hand on his chest; she leaned in as if to kiss her once more when Niklaus made a point to make his presence known before they could continue further.

"Elijah," she nodded.

Disappointed, Elijah instead kissed her cheek, "Tomorrow, Lyanna," he promised. Lyanna? What was this? Now they were addressing each other by their given names?

 _Her name is not Lyanna. Her name was Lady Lockwood, Hannah!_ he wanted to briskly correct.

"Good day, Lord Mikaelson," she replied to Niklaus, distant, chilly. Elijah got pleasantries, an informal address, like they had known each other for years, working their way to familiarities and he got the courtesy of a complete stranger.

He considered explaining to her after all that he'd seen he was a little more familiar with her than a stranger, that he'd call her Lyanna any damn time he pleased. To hell with her formalities, he'd simply choose not to reciprocate. But her approach made it particularly awkward for him to even attempt such, so instead he mumbled, "Lady Lockwood."

* * *

 

"And what were you doing today?"

Kol, smirked, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, "Playing with the serving girls."

"Charming," Niklaus snickered, looking at the dead body lying on the floor.

"Clean it up," Elijah ordered, disgusted.

"And where were the two of you?"

"Doppelganger," Niklaus answered.

"How is our favorite sacrifice?"

Niklaus made an ambivalent face, "Rambling on about young Lady Lockwood. Apparently she has been ill."

"Did you see Lilly?" Kol questioned.

"No, she was noticeably absent." It was no secret to either of the brothers that Lilly was most likely changing. If they had had any doubts, the mass disposal of Wolfsbane set their minds at ease.

"How inconvenient," Kol added. Wolves, nothing more disgusting than a female wolf, he'd be forced to find someone else to enjoy now, while they wasted away for thirty days.

"A letter from Rebekah?" Niklaus mused, holding up the parchment, "Anything we should know?" They hadn't heard from her in weeks. She'd disappeared from their lands in Spain, without word or a trace, as planned.

"No sign," Kol replied. The only reason he was there to begin with. Mikael had found both he and Rebekah months before. They'd narrowly escaped, prompting Kol to take a sudden interest in Niklaus's doppelganger venture. The soon Niklaus broke the curse, the sooner he could easily kill Mikael and they all could return to their lives of relative decadence, unhunted.

Even on the run, Rebekah refused to go with Kol and Ines to Scrathclyde. It seemed death was a more appealing option than seeing Niklaus again.

"And where is she now?"

"She was thin on details," Kol replied coyly, knowing that Rebekah's disappearance and his lack of knowledge of her whereabouts all but drove Klaus crazy, that Kol knew something he did not, making the secret all that much sweeter for Kol to keep.

"Where were you, while Klaus molested the doppelganger?" Kol questioned, dragging the girl's lifeless body across stone floors.

"Pawing at Lady Lockwood," Klaus darkly snickered.

Kol dropped her legs, "Elijah… I did not think you had it in you," a lewd smile shadowed his face, "Did she show you all the things she promised?"

"Kol," both men said in unison, Elijah then looking to Klaus as he peered back down at his stack of letters.

"If you are not inclined, she was simply begging for someone-"

"Kol!" Elijah cut him off.

"Careful, Kol, I think Elijah has taken a liking to our dear widowed neighbor," Klaus commented reproachfully.

"Get rid of that body and do not ruin the rugs," Elijah demanded as Kol rolled his eyes, lifting the girl from the floor and carrying her out of the room.

"You may be interested to know that Lyanna is orphaned and that there seems to be a particular dispute over their lands."

Casually tossing the letter aside, Klaus shrugged, "Why should I care? It has nothing to do with the doppelganger."

"And that Elspeth, the old woman, is a witch."

This caught his attention, "What?"

"The widow we saw in the woods, Grace, she made a few off hand comments, innocent. It's my understanding that she found Lyanna when she was a child."

The web weaved around Katerina was being more complex by the moment.

"They are quite close."

A hunter, surrounding herself with wolves, witches, holding his doppelganger, he disliked Lyanna before, but now she was out rightly a nuisance and possible threat.

"Lovely, not only is she a possible hunter, harboring a wolf but now raised by a witch. Anything else?"

* * *

 

It had been days but finally Lilly had begun to recover, the Wolfsbane working its way out of her system. She'd told Katerina that it was a sickness, nothing else, encouraging her to accept the Mikaelson's offer to entertain the women at Harte Manor. Although she was leery of Lilly going, Lilly insisted that she was feeling much better, caring on as if nothing had happened.

The girls begged her to come with them, as they entered the carriage.

"Really loves, I cannot. I have things to tend to here."

"Why must you burn the fields?" Lilly questioned confused. Sooner rather than later, it would be time. Lyanna would have to explain to her what was happening. Tell her things that she'd kept secret.

"The vines," she lied, "they are infested with insects. The only way to kill them is to burn the ground."

Thankfully neither Katerina nor Lilly had much of an interest in horticulture and therefore lacked the knowledge to question her practices.

"Cannot the grounds men do it?"

"Yes," standing on the peddled of the carriage, "But Elspeth asked for my assistance with a few things as well."

"Elijah will miss you…" Katerina teased.

Yes, Elijah, regrettably she would not be able to see him; thankfully she'd be spared Niklaus, however.

"You will have to give him my sincerest apologies."

"Hmm, I think he would prefer something else," she hinted.

"Lyanna, what was it like?" Lilly pried, forever interested in Lyanna's kiss in the woods, probably tiring of hearing of Katerina and Niklaus's petting sessions.

"Lovely," she smiled before hoping down and shutting the carriage door, "Have a good time."

Both girls peered out the small window, waving goodbye.

Not long after they had left, disappearing over the hills, she gathered the stable boys, a few of the grounds keepers and Elspeth. They needed to do it now, burn as much of it as they could before the girls, Lilly, got back.

* * *

 

When the women had arrived, Katerina was instantly disappointed to find that Klaus was not in attendance. Promptly apologizing from his brother's absence, Elijah was vague with details, offering his own company for the afternoon instead.

Lilly, excited to be anywhere other than Greyshaw, peered about the large relatively empty rooms. She'd only been inside Harte Manor a few times when she was a child. It looked nothing like what she remembered.

"Like what you see?"

Turning quickly she found him leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, staring at her amused. Lilly hadn't seen him for close to a week, but a strange feeling came over her, a mix of repulsion and attraction, the former of which hadn't been there before.

"That would depend," she answered boldly.

"On what?"

"What am I seeing?"

He could smell her, before he saw her. A mixture of a few different scents, one being the unmistakable heady perfume of animal, layered with her usual soft feminine smell. Wolves, they were such obnoxious creatures. He was better to stay away from her. The temptation to incite her, draw the violence out of her just to strike back was a little too tempting. But then again, Kol had only ever known male wolves before. A female was a novelty.

"Anything you like," he shot back, toying with her, as he stepped forward, a little too close to be considered polite.

Her whole life, Lilly felt like a child. She was always the baby. Kol talked to her like she was an equal and looked at her like she was a woman.

Heat radiated off of her. A wolf thing, he mused. Her skin prickled the closer he got, again both intense interest and slight repulsion.

Forever lacking in patience, courtly manners and subtly, Kol reached out attempting to touch her face. Without knowing it, she easily dodged his attempts.

"I will let you know if I find something," she replied tartly, turning before he could reply, exiting the room, in a way that beckoned for him to follow. Whether Lilly knew it or not yet, they were both natural hunters. Forever interested by nature, in the chase that had just begun.

Kol smiled. A female wolf. What an anomaly. Perhaps he could find something to occupy the next few weeks.

* * *

 

Klaus chose to be gone when they arrived, leaving the entertaining, the heavy lifting to Elijah. Where Klaus comes and goes as he pleases, holding no loyalties (it felt like) to anyone, responsible to only his self, Elijah had to be the glue. It may be Klaus's plan, but the problem with his little brother was that he was often short sided on details.

Maybe it was the wolf component that made him unreliable. Maybe it was just because that's how he always was. But it's Elijah that had to right those oversights. Klaus wanted to draw in the doppelganger, but forgot her at his leisure, so it's Elijah that will entertain the girl.

Klaus wished to collect Lyanna, let Ines probe at her for answers, but repelled her to the point were not a word could pass between them that wasn't steeped in contempt. Again, leaving Elijah fill in the blanks.

Kol and Lilly are noticeably missing. He hoped his brother wasn't doing anything unsightly, treating the young Lockwood with anything less than what should be custom to a woman of her station. The last thing they need with witches, wolves, hunters and Vervain about was a scandalized young woman.

"Are you always so serious?" Katerina questioned, curling strands of hair around her finger, looking up at him innocently, beneath Tatia's lashes, with Tatia's voice.

"Do you consider me so?"

"Yes."

"Then mayhaps I should not be."

There was something about her that he'd been so careful to avoid before, consuming his attentions with Klaus's plans and Lyanna. It was everything about her that screamed, "TATIA!" Even though he'd kept his distance, it was difficult to ignore their similarities in more than just their appearance.

Katerina had an intoxicating childhood naivety about her. Even if at times it was apparent that she was anything but. Her view of the world was so simple, lovely really.

He wondered if his brother had even bothered to notice, appreciate it.

"Come," she encouraged, taking his hand. He should have said, "No." At the very least pulled away and kept his distance. But he was a fool, as Klaus had snapped at him once long ago. He followed Katerina then and would soon follow her into an even more complicated web that they would weave: the four of them subconsciously.

* * *

 

He could smell it before he saw the flames. Vervain, Wolfsbane, charred dirt, the scent carried in the wind. He'd spent the night in the village, screwing and feeding on anything worth looking at. He undoubtedly announced his presence to any wolves that may have lingered in its shabby streets.

How he missed Venice, Rome, Paris, even England, where there was more to do. The women were much more attractive. The dinner selection more varied.

On horse he made his way over the moors, in early evening, close to a mile from Harte Manor and the doppelganger that had most likely been waiting for him to return all afternoon, when he caught the scent on the wind, instantly irritating his senses. As he rode on, smoke appeared in the distance, coming from the Lockwood Lands. Heeling the animal forward, it appeared as if Greyshaw Manor had been set ablaze as blackness billowed from behind the property.

Maybe it was curiosity, boredom, certainly (he convinced himself) it was not concern that prompted him to urge his horse further, riding to the side of the estate to find part of the south fields burning. Quickly dismounting, he looked around to see groundskeepers staring at the blaze, the old woman, Elspeth, wringing her hands and Lady Lockwood standing yards away, watching the fields go up in smoke.

"What are you doing?" he yelled, quickly approaching.

Caught off guard, she pulled her eyes from the fire, finding an unpleasant surprise.

"Burning the fields," she answered calmly.

"Are you mad?! What if it spreads?"

Picking up her skirts, she walked west, "It will not," prompting him to follow.

"How can you be sure?"

"I cannot," she answered simply.

"I ask again, are you mad?"

"Possibly," she smiled, looking back at the fire.

This would be the logical point to ask why she was burning the fields that they'd harvested from only weeks earlier. But there was no need. Niklaus knew why. She burned the Wolfsbane and subsequently the Vervain as well (by default) because she had a wolf now living in their home. One who could easily be poisoned by the plant she'd been using to protect them.

Like children, they watched the vines burn and crackle. The Vervain irritating both his eyes and skin as it defused through the air. When he started to cough, he was surprised to feel her touch his arm, handing him a white handkerchief.

Accepting it, he pressed it to his mouth as his lungs burned from the poison. Forcefully taking her by the elbow he guided her back, until they were out of the cross winds.

As Lyanna stood consumed in her thoughts, more than just the fire, he suspected, he looked down at the cotton she'd handed him. Green initials stitched into the corner: LL.

They'd been there silent, for more than ten, possibly fifteen minutes and it dawn on him, as he looked at her that he liked her like this: quiet, peaceful.

As per usual, it wouldn't last. "Should you not be hosting?"

Technically it was Elijah that had written the invitation. In fact, specifically so Ines could inspect her, feel out the mystery that was Lyanna Lockwood and possibly give him the answers he sought before he killed her.

"Where you not invited as well?" he asked rhetorically.

"There were more pressing matters," she nodded to the fire.

Silence passed between them, as he subconsciously fingered her handkerchief.

"Elijah will have been disappointed," he added cheekily.

"As I am sure, Katerina was," she shot back.

Both were most likely sorely disappointed with their absences. Although, this served to side step his purpose for the evening, for whatever reason he was relieved to find her here instead of at Harte Manor. His brother's subtle or rather none too subtle interest in the possible hunter made him uncomfortable as clear lines seemed to blur. Niklaus entertaining the doppelganger, indulging her with false affection served a purpose. Elijah's possible entanglement with Lady Lockwood reminded him of Elijah's brief but noted concern for Hannah years ago. Serving no purpose then, like now, other than leaving Niklaus annoyed.

Out of nowhere she questioned, "Do you care for Katerina?"

Common sense would call for him to lie and reply, "Yes."

He said nothing, only watched as ash dropped like black snowflakes from the sky, settling onto her pale yellow hair. The image was so very dark in nature, making her appear like an angel from hell: bathed in fire, wrapped in light. What was it that human's called their anti-God? Lucifer, barrier of light? Yes, mayhaps that is what he should call her. Lucifer, his own anti-God.

"Affection seems to be a fickle thing for men," she responded, when he gave her only silence.

"No, rather attention," he replied still not quite answering her question.

The sky had turned dark with evening, the air chillier and the forest black. But visible at its edge they stood. Four of them, more towering then the men he remembered encountering in the village. As Lyanna observed the fire, they watched her.

Catching his stare from her peripheral vision, Lyanna followed what had so keenly caught his attention. Surprised she was not. Since Lilly's accident on Lamas Day they were becoming increasingly ancy.

She'd debated for days as to whether she should burn the fields, dispose of their supply. It was the last thing they had, to keep them at bay. But it was too risky with Lilly, making it all too easy for her to be poisoned, either accidentally or purposely as they probably hoped.

Menacingly, they waited for their moment to strike. Tonight from a distance, watching, tomorrow and the next day would not be the same. They were toying with her, animals that enjoy rousing their prey before the hunt.

Picking up her skirts, she turned, heading in their direction, when an arm shot out stopping her.

"No."

"Niklaus…" she slightly warned, looked down at his hand.

"Lyanna…" Her name rolled off his tongue, like a dirty word, as if he'd said something incredibly personal, when it was only her name. One he'd never used before. He'd called her it a dozen times accidentally in his mind but never addressed her as such out loud.

"Your hand…"

"Your idiot notions of heroism…."he countered.

"They are waiting."

"You must excuse me, they do not look friendly."

"Says the man that is bruising my wrist," she shot back.

Releasing his grip, she went to take another step to find herself in the same position, "Niklaus…"

"No," he answered simply.

"Ignoring them will not make them disappear."

"I never implied that they would be ignored."

She looked down at her wrist.

What was he doing? Let her run off into the woods and get raped and ripped apart. What did he care? It was none of his business. Although, it would prove to be nice to have Ines squelch his curiosity over her resemblance. Constance had been clear before that a dead body would not due.

"I will speak with them," he muttered, annoyed at the things he'd do, the situations he unwillingly involve himself in, because he refused to her die before he got his answers.

Releasing her, he prepared himself to go speak with the pack, likely inciting the beginnings of a territory struggle (the last thing he needed) only to find Lyanna grab his arm in response.

"I do not remember asking you to do my bidding."

"Excellent because I do not follow orders," he snapped.

"And neither do I. Especially from men I barely know," releasing him, she moved to pass him again, when a hand caught that back of her skirt, pulling her. Things had been so pleasant, comfortable moments earlier. It was because they were both quiet. It took only a few words from them to easily slip into an argument.

"Trust me Pet, when I state an order you will know."

Pet? Not only was he interfering in her personal affairs but now he was calling her by endearments, and demeaning endearments none the less?

Both were sure that there was something that they had originally been arguing over. The purpose was in there, somewhere, the wolves waiting quickly being pushed to peripheral thoughts as the pair bickered back and forth.

Softening for a moment, she ignored his hand still rudely holding the back of her skirts, like a mother to a child, and reached up touching his cheek, in what normally would be an inviting gesture. Sweet her tone may have been, but curt her words were, "Address me as Pet, again and I shall rip out your tongue. Understand me, Love?"

The threat meant to be menacing was both annoying and slightly amusing. There it was, the same look, tone, she'd given him on Lammas day. The one that simultaneously made him want to both snap her neck and molest her, catching him off guard. Katerina loved being called Pet. Hundreds of years he'd preyed on naïve women and each and everyone swooned at the endearment.

And she hated it. Typical, so typical of what he was beginning to know as Lyanna: the fact that she wasn't typical. Not for women of that time.

He should give her what she'd asked for. He should leave her to the wolves, return home, and allow them to most likely drag her into the woods, violate the hell out of her and rip her apart. He should… but annoyingly he couldn't quite convince himself to leave.

Her death would put a remarkable cramp in his plans to sequester the doppelganger until the next full moon, he told himself. And furthermore, if anyone was going to have the pleasure of wringing Lyanna Lockwood's neck, it would be him.

From a distance, they knew they had been spotted. "Is that him?" News of the new lords spreading quickly throughout the area, whispers of their strange behavior followed. Other than the incident in the woods with Lilly, no member of any pack had been attacked yet. But it was only a matter of time.

"Vampires…" their silent conclusion and fear. The blood sucking brothers were moving in on the Lockwood lands, their lands, and from the look of it Lyanna herself.

"Soon," the leader answered, as he watched Lyanna turn away preferring to ignore them. The vampire, however, not so easily swayed.

"Klaus!"

Coming from the side grounds, Katerina and Elijah made their way towards them. He looked to Lyanna briefly, dropping her skirts, subconsciously tucking her handkerchief inside his coat.

"Where were you?" Katerina questioned, smiling, leaning provocatively close.

Elijah not far behind kept his distance, watching both Katerina, Klaus, surprised to find his brother here of all places.

"Elijah."

Taking his cue, he approached Lyanna, looking somewhat relieved that she was seemed relatively pleased to see him.

"I had business…" he murmured to Katerina, watching the conversation play out between Elijah and Lyanna.

"I thought I'd escort young Lady Lockwood and Ms Petrova back."

"How thoughtful of you."

"I had hoped you would have accompanied them this afternoon."

"I apologize." Leaning forward, he gently brushed flakes of ash from her hair, hovering over her as she looked up. They were close enough to kiss and surely might have if Klaus hadn't interrupted, "Elijah, come. Let us not bother these ladies any longer."

Ruining the moment, which seemed to be his thing now, Elijah teetered back on his toes, "Yes of course." Clearly he would need to speak with Elijah. Chastise him for being so easily enamored; remind him that they had more important things at hand. Separate his brother from his growing attachment that was continuing to make Klaus increasingly uncomfortable.

* * *

 

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

As she rounded the corner, looking for Katerina and Elijah during another visit they'd made to Harte Manor, he'd grabbed her from the shadows, eliciting a yelp as he pushed her against the wall.

Leaning in much too close to be considered proper, his face hovered inches from hers.

"Seduce you, My Lady…?" he started to question innocently, pressing himself closer. Since she'd turned Lilly found herself less able to control her thoughts, hormones often getting the best of her when around Kol.

Had her mother lived, Nathaniel, they would be appalled with her wanton behaviors. But Lilly couldn't seem to control herself. Leaning forward, she allowed him to kiss her, his lips hastily finding her neck, hands trailing down her sides, cupping her bottom, like she were some common whore.

"Could you be seduced?" he questioned, his teeth scrapping over her neck, making her unbearably wet.

"No," she answered, closing her legs, able to smell herself, and unbeknownst to her, Kol could as well, encouraging him further.

"Are you sure?" His fingers inched up the hem of her dress.

 _YES! YES! YES!_ , her mind screamed, wanting so badly for him to continue. But she was a Lady.

 _I'm a Lady. Lady Lilly Lockwood. Ladies don't do these things_ , her mind whispered, but her body didn't wish to listen.

Pushing him back, his lips made a popping noise as they released from her skin.

"Yes, positive," she tempted, her breasts peaking out of the top of her gown. Shooting him a confident smirk, she turned walking away.

Oh how she loved to play with him, almost as much as he loved to play with her. Wolves, he should be ashamed of himself for involving himself with wolves. They were such disgusting creatures.

Disgusting never looked so inviting.

Trotting after her, he was confident, before she died, he'd have Lilly Lockwood. He'd gone too long being teased at this point to not be rewarded.

* * *

 

It had been months since she'd come here. Maybe she feared it and that's why she stayed away. Running from ghosts, turning a blind eye, preparing for the war that would find its way to her doorstep, coming here made it too personal. It became a little too real, the memories she sought hard to forget.

The way things used to be. Before reality set in and pretty fantasies, a world of security, and promises disappeared.

She hesitated at the small wire gate, deciding whether or not to go in; she looked around, as if someone might be there to witness to her shame: that unlike most loving wives, she never came, would sooner burn it to the ground.

Creeping closer to the headstone, the flowers she carried in her hand had gone limp. She face twisted awkwardly as she read the words: Nathaniel Noah Jameson Lockwood, Loving Son, Husband, Friend and Brother.

Father, they forgot to add father. What did it matter now?

Staring at the weeds that had sprouted up around the stone, she thought of pulling them, before she decided against it, instead setting the flowers aside them.

"What do you wish me to do now?" she questioned, alone in cemetery as if she could get answers from a dead body.

Why did she come here?

Awkwardly, she stepped back, shifting her weight side to side. How much she hated him, and how much she missed him at the same time. He'd gotten her into this terrible mess and it seemed he would be the only one that would know how to get her out.

He was always better at these things than her. Nathaniel always knew what to do and say. It seemed she never said the right thing. As Lilly began to change, turn, evolve, she'd become increasingly scared, violent and Lyanna struggled to explain.

Days earlier, Lilly had flown into a rage, throwing objects against the wall, threatening Lyanna, scaring Katerina. Afterwards, when she'd curled into herself on the floor, shaking confused and Lyanna gathered her in her lap, Elspeth hovering on the edges, unsure what to say, Lilly cried, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Love," she answered, "This is what happens." When she'd first explained to Lilly the curse, the changes, she couldn't process the information, called her a liar, and distanced herself.

Later, after she'd had time, she came back, full of question, wanting to know about their history, Nathaniel, the pack and where she'd fit into it all. Lyanna feared what she should say. How much she should reveal. And explained the best she could, leaving out same of the essentials: the predicament they were in, what Nathaniel had done and her plan.

The problem with the dead was that they were able to leave their problems behind. Nathaniel was no more likely to give her guidance than he was to rise from his grave.

Why had she come?

For hope, maybe if she stayed long enough, with him, his memory, the answers would arrive. The only problem was with them also came things she only wished to put to rest.

She'd considered more than a few times seeking Elijah's council. Inquiring what he thought would be best. Telling him everything honestly, but each time she could feel it sitting on the edge of her tongue, waiting to be explained, she held back. He held her back.

He was too kind, to be burdened with such problems. He was a little too perfect to be tainted with such ugliness. Sinking slowly next to the tombstone, she rubbed her forehead.

Should she just give them the stone? Mayhaps it would pacify them. Nathaniel would say no. He'd tell her to find another way. But there was no other way. They were coming for her, she could feel it. They lurked in the woods, day and night, becoming bold as they walked onto the grounds at dusk, weaving between the burned rows of plants.

"If you tell me what to do, I will not question it, promise…." She answered, somewhat comically.

It was a private moment, inappropriate for him to encroach upon, bound to only incur scorn. But he didn't care. He'd been watching her quite some time, tracking her through the woods, as she entered the clearing.

When she'd looked about, before she entered the cemetery, he was sure she'd spotted him, knew he was there. But when she began to talk to herself, he decided not.

It had been weeks since he'd last been alone with her, not since the burnings. She'd carefully avoided each and every invitation they'd sent. She was even absent from Sabbath services he'd drug himself to with Elijah, curious to see if she'd attend. Katerina was short on details, explaining that Lyanna had been preoccupied. With what, Katerina didn't know.

The only contact he'd had with her wasn't even his own. Letters, many letters sent and received between her and Elijah. Pages of conversations, poems, jokes and musings, all private continuations of visits they'd had together. As Lyanna was unwilling to accept any invitation to Harte Manor, Elijah was more than willing to travel to Greyshaw, often for visits. Leaving Niklaus to question, wonder, paranoid what it was that they'd do during those visits. What was it that they spoke of? How was it that they filled their time?

Had Elijah betrayed him? Had he developed feelings for the hunter? He'd warmed him dozens of times that she was an obstacle, disposable and that sooner rather than later, she'd be dead. Elijah didn't seem to care.

It wasn't until later, after he'd left for another 'visit' alone, that Niklaus had found them. Stacks of letters, more than four dozen, even over the few short weeks. Pulling them from a drawer, wrapped carefully in twine, he'd thought twice before opening them. What if he'd discovered that he was right? That Elijah had betrayed him? Started a relationship with the possible hunter? Cared for her even?

The possibility of it drove him mad, causing him to delve in. Ripping them open, greedily pouring over every word. Surprised, disgusted and if her were honest, jealous at what he'd found.

Maybe he'd hoped for some torrid scandalous discussion. Evidence that he'd ravaged the widow as they'd all fantasized at one point in time. But what he found were genuine conversations. A discussion about books, world affairs, poetry, horticulture, private conversations, drabbles of random thoughts, humor, simple confession and genuine affection. They spoke to one another, wrote to one another without physical satiation but with more intimacy than Niklaus had ever known; each letter, as common as any conversation between perhaps a husband and his wife.

He'd gone through them all, his fingers making oil imprints on their edges as he read, reread and memorized things she'd said and his reply. Almost as if he was part of their world, their relationship.

When evening had come and he could sense Elijah's arrival was near, he recollected the letters in their stack, rebinding them with the twine, removing a few, sliding them into his coat.

It was a perversion, more than just an encroachment on their thoughts and relationship. It was wrong for him to do it and he knew it. But he couldn't help himself.

It wasn't his life. Her thoughts, sentiments, love wasn't for him. But he didn't care. Part of it would be his forever.

So as she denied another invitation, Lilly and Katerina's voices filling the halls of Harte Manor, he'd slipped out before he could be noticed, forced to stay and entertain. Hunger filled him with the impulse to travel east into the village, finding food, perhaps company. But the sight of a woman crawling over the moors, south bound, away from the Greyshaw, the forest, diverted his attentions.

He'd followed her at a distanced, waited as she stepped onto the old burial grounds. Listened to each word she spoke out loud to no one.

He felt a twinge of sympathy as she looked for help.

"They say the dead tell no tales," he interrupted.

Glancing over her shoulder, Lyanna was mildly embarrassed as she rose from the ground, dusting dirt from her skirts.

"I wasn't aware that I had an audience."

"Yes, well you must excuse my intrusion. I saw you walking and I was concerned."

"You, concerned? And what may I ask concerned you?" She questioned tartly, as if caring about another person was below him. Mayhaps she knew him too well, saw him much clearer than Katerina.

"Your friends have been lingering as of late. However, if I did not know better, I would not exactly call them friends."

It was Elijah that had first said something, encouraging Niklaus that they needed to act.

" _I saw them again, hovering outside the woods," he threw out, attempting to be indifferent._

" _Yes, as have I. Do you have a point Elijah?"_

" _They are a threat to your doppelganger, to the plan," he incited._

_What he meant was they were a threat to Lyanna, Lilly and subsequently Katerina. He had a point. Elijah always had a point. And although Niklaus's concern had grown just as much, he'd be damned if he let Elijah know that._

"I am sure, that I have no idea what you are referring to."

Stepping onto hollow ground he asked, sincerely this time, "Do you fear them?"

She didn't respond, her face expressionless, as she looked at him indifferently.

"Do you fear anything?" Why did he care? Reading those damn letters was a mistake. He'd learned too much about her, inspiring thoughts, interest in her opinions, her life.

"Lairs…" she answered, poignantly looking at him.

It was a strange reply, cryptic as she so often was.

"And why do you fear liars?"

"They bring the worst kind of destruction," she answered coldly, exposing him in more ways than she even knew, making Niklaus feel instantly uncomfortable. Completely inappropriate, heartlessly, he replied on the defense, "Like your late husband?"

That stopped her in her tracks, if she was hurt, she didn't show it. Shrugging, smirking, she challenged, "Is that all you have, Love? That is it?"

He hated when she did that, so quickly dodged the little traps he'd set, coming back with something equally as a sharp.

No it wasn't all he had. He could hurl a mountain of insults. Starting with her husband, that fact that he was clearly unfaithful, sought another woman's bed, and fathered a bastard. He could point out that she was soon to be killed if not by him then the pack. That she was an idiot to think she could fend them all off. That she was weak, human and would soon break.

"Is this about Katerina?" He replied instead.

By the look on her face, he could tell he was getting warm.

"Do you care for her?"

That same question again, the one from that night by the fires when she'd given him the handkerchief that lay in a drawer next to the letters he'd stolen from Elijah, a few other prized things he'd collected over the years and paper he'd taken from Anne's home in Seres.

Lucifer, he'd coined her that night in his mind, bathed in light, enticing, paving a road to hell that he'd already stupidly began down.

By this time they'd walked out of the little cemetery. Again he should have told her what she wished to hear but he didn't. Perhaps because he knew, she'd know it was a lie. And she hated liars as did he.

"I think you should be careful," he offered instead. The closer he got the more she agreed. Little alarms were going off in her mind as she could feel herself being drawn in, when he continued, "Those men want something and they won't stop until they get it."

The wolves, yes of course he was talking about the wolves. Embarrassed, she looked down, thinking of Elijah, sweet, kind, Elijah. He didn't make things so complicated.

"Are you worried for me, Niklaus?" She asked, half jokingly, trying to break the tension maybe only she felt.

"Yes." And in truth he was, for more than simple reasons.

This was why she'd been avoiding Harte Manor. Not because of Elijah or even the wolves, but because of this. The way he looked at her. It made her feel like everything she hated. It made her liar.

"What is it exactly that you wish from me, Niklaus?"

There was no reason for him to be here. He kept showing up, saying the most unusual things to her. Looking at her like they'd known each other forever. Treating her as if they'd had an entire history that she knew nothing about.

"I do not know." Why had he come? A long moment of silence passed between them, before he did it. Leaning down, slowly giving her time to pull away if she so chose, but she didn't. He was nervous to be honest, leery of what he was possibly involving himself in. Engaging ghosts was a dangerous game. But what could it hurt if it were only once? Mayhaps then the dreams would stop.

Mayhaps, soon enough, less than a week, she'd be dead. And then he'd never know.

It was soft, quick and nothing special.

When he pulled away she looked up at him, unmoved by the entire incident. And all Klaus could think was: light. What did that mean? But light was defiantly the word that came to mind.

Lucifer, if the humans were somehow amazingly correct and this so called God was real, the heavens, hell, everything, then he'd found their Lucifer.

"No fear, I have had better as well," she smirked, cheeky, poo pooping the entire experience. Elijah is what she meant. He was the better kisses she'd had.

It was possibly the most insulting thing, she'd ever said to him. And with a mounting list, that was quite a feat.

Turning away from him, she began to walk away, calling over her shoulder, "You can return to Katerina now that, that has been cleared up."

Not to be out done, he rushed in front of her, pulling her face in his hands, even as she tried to fight him off. Ultimately he won, as he kissed her again, this time a little more boldly- his tongue slipping into her mouth, eventually finding her kissing him back.

Pushing away this time, he fully expected a more worthy response but instead was met with, "How did you move that fast?"As if none of the last fifteen seconds had ever happened.

Annoyed, he pulled her in again, shutting her up. Apparently she still hadn't been kissed properly yet. That or his charm wasn't working; he wasn't doing it for her. The thought of it setting small landmines off, blowing holes in Klaus's substantial ego.

No, that wouldn't do.

This time she did fully submit, for just a moment, before he felt her pulling back. Releasing her, he was fully set to be smug, when she looked up at him confused, a strange smile spreading over her lips, Anne's smile, before it was accompanied with a palm hot against his cheek.

Slapping him hard, he barely felt it, while her hand stung. Without a word, she pressed forward with every intention of leaving him until she could hear him behind her. In warning she called back, "Do not follow me!"

And for the first time ever, Klaus obeyed, staying put, watching her go. This time he smiled, smirked rather. It wasn't quite the reaction he was hoping for. He was an idiot for doing it, only further complicating matters, but hell it felt great.

Touching his cheek, where her hand print had quickly disappeared, he watched until her figure disappeared over the moors.

"Lyanna…" he whispered to himself.

Gods, he hated that woman, but found her to be utterly fascinating at the same time.

As Lyanna struggled over the hills, holding her skirts, she brought her fingers to her lips. What had just happened could never happen again.

There was Katerina to consider and Elijah. But when Elijah kissed her, although pleasant, wonderful really, it felt nothing like that.

* * *

 

"Touch yourself…." His voice was sly and encouraging. She couldn't see him but she knew its source immediately.

She could refuse. She could easily deny him as she had so many times before. Every bold gesture he'd made. Every advance he'd tried and she'd quickly thwarted. But what could it hurt now?

It was the only time; she didn't feel the underpinnings of repulsion, only desire.

She'd found herself, lying on a bed that wasn't hers, in a room she'd never seen before. Strange objects scattered about, masks, odd trinkets… the smell of blood in the air. And the face that hover just out of sight.

Lilly was vaguely aware that she was dreaming, the same kinds of dreams, night after night, each one becoming more bold than the last. Deciding to comply, she reached down to pull up her skirts, slide her fingers beneath. But instead she found herself in a state of complete undress, save her small clothes.

She could have sworn she was clothed moments before.

Spreading her thighs, she dipped her hand between her legs, as she'd done only a few times before, in the privacy of her own rooms.

"Yes," a voice encouraged as cotton was pressed aside exposing wet, slick, pink tissue.

She toyed with the outer folds for a moment, tracing them, listening to his heavy breathing, taunting him, before sinking her fingers inside, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

"Take them off," he directed huskily, instructing her to strip herself of the remaining cloth. Knowing what he meant but unwilling to play along, she reached for the thin material that clothed her breasts, dragging it over her head, tossing it to the side.

Pinching her nipples, her thumb pressed aside the cotton between her thighs further as a soft sucking noise filled the room, with her labor.

"Faster," he ordered, causing her to slow even further: finger tips, tracing the bud at the apex of her thighs, ignoring his requests, circling slowly as she moaned, enjoying the fact that she could hear his breaths grow rigid.

"Touch yourself, as well," she requested, spreading her thighs further as encouragement, pushing her small clothes over her knees, exposing herself completely.

Opening her eyes, she could see the body had not followed her requests, causing her to close her thighs in challenge.

"Continue," he urged further, Kol's voice edged with a kind of desperation she'd never heard.

"No, touch yourself," she answered, spreading her ankles giving a small preview.

She watched as he stepped into view still unwilling to submit, instead grabbing her ankles himself, prying her knees apart.

"I'd rather, watch you," her coaxed, his cheek brushing her legs, floating down her thigh, resting intimately close as she obeyed.

With each thrust of her fingers, he licked his lips, encouraging their perversion.

"You want me, Lilly?" he questioned, his breath hot on her opening.

"No," she answered, lying.

He nudged her hand over, tasting her briefly, driving her close to the edge, before pulling back, "I think you lie."

She could feel a pressure building, escalating the more intently he watched her, encouraging, "You will submit, Lilly."

She wanted to submit.

With that fluid rushed between her legs, a moan escaping through her lips, her nipples becoming painfully erect, as she contracted around her own fingers, and finally her eyes popping open in reality.

Coming out of her dream, she sat up in bed, looking around the familiar room.

What had just happened? Had she been anything but alone, wetness pooling between her thighs beneath the sheets, she might have been embarrassed.

But surely no one would know.

Except for Kol, who smiled to himself painfully excited as his eyes also lazily opened. Pulling himself from her mind, in a home over the hill, he smiled to himself, "Only a matter of time, sweet Lilly."

* * *

 

The closer they got to the full moon the worse things got. A chair flew past Lyanna's head, bursting against the wall, shaking the chandler.

Swallowing, Lyanna attempted to stay calm, as Lilly's eyes fluctuated from yellow, to brown, then back to yellow with rage.

"I want you to tell me!" She yelled.

Katerina looked wildly at Lyanna, scared, hoping for some sort of answer.

"Katerina, will you excuse us please?" She wasn't a fool and the more time that wore on, the worse Lilly's behaviors became, the less Katerina was willing to patiently turn a blind eye and let her questions go unanswered.

Waiting for Katerina to leave, Lyanna calmly started, "What do you wish to know?"

"Who are they?"

"They're part of the pack."

"What do they want?"

Solemnly, she replied, "You. They most likely want you dead, me as well. They want the lands. They want it all and they want the stone." There was no use keeping it from her now.

As her words sunk in, Lilly paused in thought, her eyes changing back to brown. "Why do they think they can have Greyshaw? Why do they want us dead?" she finally questioned.

Lyanna's answer would last well into an hour as she finally told her sister in law all the things she'd never said before. She explained that Nathaniel was the pack leader, that the Lockwood's had always been pack leaders, that the lands were originally belonged to the pack, back to the pagan days. She confessed Nathaniel's sins, how he'd slept with a member's wife, carried on a brief affair. Lilly was dumbfounded when Lyanna explained that the woman had eventually had a child, that her husband had rallied the pack against Nathaniel, eventually performing a coup and killing him.

They feared that if she turned, Lilly could challenge his authority. But mostly they wanted the lands, now that Nathaniel was dead without a legitimate child. And most of all they wanted the moonstone. The rock, the Lockwood's had guarded so carefully over the years. The stone Lyanna had dropped into the lake poisoned with Wolfsbane, days after her husband's death.

And when it was all over and Lilly finally understood the gravity of their situation, she simply asked, "What do we do now?"

If Lyanna only knew.

* * *

 

Four days until the full moon. Worried for Katerina's safety, with Lilly's ever growing unstable moods, the threat of the pack, Lyanna did the one thing she could think.

Walking into Harte Manor, she wished to walk straight out as she made eye contact with Niklaus and Elijah, both men waiting for her.

"Lyanna," Elijah reached for her, kissing her hand, making Niklaus nauseous, "What do we owe this honor? Is something wrong? I could have come to you."

"I am sorry for such an abrupt arrival; however I was hoping you could help me with something."

As Elijah guided her to chair, she purposely made it a point to not look in Niklaus's direction. It had been two days since their kiss. She'd thought of it a hundred times, dreamt of it. If she looked at him now, she almost feared her sins would be laid bare for all to see. That Elijah would know and even worse, Niklaus would know he'd had that kind of effect on her.

"Lilly is sick again and I fear for Katerina being so close."

"It is not serious, is it?" Both brothers' knew the sickness Lilly had, the only cure the passing of the full moon.

"I am not sure. To be safe, I would prefer to not expose Katerina."

"Of course."

"Would it be possible for her to stay with you both, for a period of time? Until Lilly has recovered?"

The situation could not have been any more perfect. Four days from a full moon, soon the curse would be broken. Katerina at Harte Manor only served to cut out a few steps in the plan.

"Of course, we would be more than happy to host Katerina," Elijah answered a little too eagerly. Until this point, Niklaus had been quiet as Lyanna offered her thanks, rising to leave.

Motioning to Elijah, his brother quickly rose, excusing himself, "Lyanna, if you could wait one moment. I would like to introduce you to someone."

As Elijah went to find Ines, Lyanna was left in the exact situation she'd hoped to avoid, being alone with Niklaus.

She stood walking over the nearest bookcase, intently reading the spine of every book in view, doing anything to look busy as she prayed that he'd keep his distance, letting dead dogs lie. Seemed God wasn't interested in her prayers.

Her hand came to rest on Facetiae, when she could feel him behind her.

"Lyanna are you avoiding me?"

When she didn't respond, instead holding her breath, he had his answer. He was selfish, always had been, never caring for anyone else's feelings, opinions. Reaching out, he smirked a little, tracing the laces on the back of her dress, provocatively, refusing to be ignored, when she finally answered, "Stop."

"Stop what?" he answered innocently.

"What you are doing. It will not work, so stop."

"What am I doing?" yes he most certainly was toying with her. He knew what he was doing, prodding her, hoping for a reaction. Desperate for anything, if it meant he wasn't ignored.

"Playing your little game," she answered, turning, book in hand, like a shield.

"What game?"

"This, this game," side stepping him, so she was no longer cornered, his movements immediately matched hers. "Where you attempt to manipulate emotion from me."

"Manipulate emotion?" He wasn't trying to manipulate anything, it was written all over her face from the moment she'd entered Harte Manor.

Refusing to cower, as he moved a little closer, again wanting to elicit a reaction, she answered plainly, "It is not real," Stopping him in his tracks.

"What?"

"Whatever it is that you think I am, that you have imagined in your mind, I am not. So you can stop your efforts now."

"I haven't done a thing," again feigning innocence, annoying the hell out of her. It was like he thought she was some type of idiot and had imagine it all or worse wasn't intelligent enough to figure out his strategy.

Quirking her eyebrow she stared him exasperatedly for a moment before reaching out, grabbing neck of his tunic, tugging him towards her. Forcefully she kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth, surprising him. It was over in less than seconds as she nudged him away, dropping his shirt.

"See what I mean," she answered. "Nothing's changed. It is no more real than it was moments before. The mystery is solved. The victory goes to you, congratulations," she snarked.

The words no more had come out of her mouth, than he'd had he pressed up against the bookcase, finishing what she'd begun moments before. Only this time, hands wandered a little more suggestively, teeth nipped at lips, scrapped over skin, making a wet hot trail.

Had he not heard Elijah and Ines on the stairs, it would have continued, long enough for Lyanna to pull her thoughts together, come to her senses and push him off. Quickly separating, he calmly walked to the other side of the room, just in time for their arrival, leaving Lyanna looking confused and slightly disheveled.

Ines knew she was there long before Elijah found her. The energy changing subtly the moment the woman had stepped foot onto the Mikaelson lands. What they walked into only confirmed whatever thoughts she was already having.

"Lyanna, is everything all right?" Elijah questioned, somewhat concern, looking to his brother then back at her. What was Niklaus playing at now?

"Yes," she answered quickly.

It was a mistake, but without thinking she looked up making eye contact with Niklaus, falling victim. Instantly her cheeks burned a little pinker, thoughts of their kiss flooding back.

Lyanna looked cautiously at the older woman, knowing something was off about her. As they introduced their guest, their explanation for her presence was thin to say the least. The entire room stood still for moments as the brothers intently watch the brief interaction between the woman and Lyanna. The exposure would prove to be enough, Niklaus hoped, what little it was, for the witch to give him the information he sought.

When Lyanna left she let Elijah accompany her to the carriage for a lengthy goodbye. As plans were made for a visit the next day, she surprised him by leaning in, perched on the foot peddle, kissing him.

It was ardent, lengthy, holding the promise of something more, but to Lyanna screaming of desperation, her desperation to forget what had happened earlier.

Submitting, willingly, joyously, Elijah kissed her back, hands slipping around her waist, pulling her down slightly, cradling behind her back.

It was different from the one she'd shared with Niklaus: his demanding, animalistic. Elijah's style was completely contrary: a conversation, subtle back and forth, less about domination. Both left her confused, with a dull ache between her thighs, heated, agonizing thoughts for the short ride home.

When they parted, she glanced back at the Harte Manor, somehow aware that he was watching although not sure, her efforts screaming, "THIS IS REAL. YOU ARE NOT!"

But he was real as was she. Watching from the widow, as his brother bid Lyanna goodbye, Niklaus felt the all too familiar burning pains of annoyance, which later, much later, to be accurate, a decade, he'd finally diagnose as jealousy.

Watching the carriage pull away Niklaus questioned, "Well?"

Ines pondered a few moments before answering, "There is something there, most certainly. I could feel it as she pulled onto the grounds."

Reentering the room, Niklaus could have sworn satisfied, smug, Elijah caught onto the last part of Ines's observation.

"Yes and what is it?" Niklaus questioned, impatiently.

"I need blood to know for sure, I can't know the nature of it without. But there is something there, a connection between you and that woman, a spell, I am certain."

Confirming things Niklaus already knew, feared, repeating the same prognosis as Constance, years past. Driving another wedge between him and Elijah as his brother heard the same conclusions, shifting uncomfortably.

She was connected to Niklaus, in too many ways to count. But she was connected to Elijah as well. Making him not wish to admit but know, that he worried for her as well as Katerina each day that drew closer to the full moon.

* * *

 

Taking his hands, she drug him forward, eyes drawing him in, playful, enticing.

"Whatever shall we do, Elijah?'

It's familiar, a little too familiar to be innocent. Mayhaps they were spending too much time around one another. If he wasn't mistaken he could sense her seeking him out more often, her behavior increasingly flirtatious. Her affect on him had become hard to ignore as Katerina stayed with them and Lyanna became increasingly more absent.

"And where is Lyanna, today?" It was out of context, but he sought to divert the building tension between them, as he looked out over the grounds, in the direction of Greyshaw.

She stiffened for a moment at the mention of Lady Lockwood's name. "Who knows?"

Elijah felt guilty for even mentioning it, shifting the mood between him and Katerina.

Though he found himself, waiting in anticipation for each visit, thinking of Lyanna often, wishing to steal another kiss he also found himself thinking other thoughts: these more ravenous, colored with another type of confusion.

Mayhaps it was because she looked so much like Tatia. She acted so much Tatia. It was difficult for him to separate fact from fiction, history from present. But at night, when Lyanna would drift out of his mind, Katerina would move in with considerable force.

Musings on her smell, her smile and other indecent thoughts. Where he wished to care for Lyanna, couldn't control himself from forming a friendship, no matter how much Niklaus discouraged it, he found himself wishing nothing more than to ravage Katerina. Be greedy with his hands, instead of his words.

In truth, fulfill all the desires he'd not acted upon with Tatia.

"Shall we play a game?" her words holding such promise, if he wasn't mistaken a clear libidinous texture to them. There was something very carnal about Katerina, begging to be flirted out, fondled into nauseam.

"What would you like to do, My Lady?" he could feel himself falling into it, shamelessly being led by her child like innocence that was absurdly paired with her lascivious nature.

Her hands slipped from his, a sideways glance as she bit the edge of her lip, "Mayhaps you should catch me and I'll let you decide," she teased as she started ahead of him, begging to be followed.

"You have to chase me! You're meant to catch me," she whined.

"But if I catch you, the game will be over."

Ending their playful sprint, she came to a stop.

"Thank you for entertaining me."

"Oh, you looked lonely inside so I took pity on you," he teased. Truthfully he wanted nothing more but to spend the day with her.

As she sat on the small wooden bench, Katerina replied breathlessly, all joy dropping from her face, "Klaus promised to spend the day with me, but he never returned home from the night."

They'd last seen Niklaus at the noon meal yesterday before he disappeared from Harte Manor for the rest of the day, not returning all evening, leaving Katerina wilted from his lack of attention.

"Yes, Klaus does not live by any rules but his own."

"He is a very charming man. Hard for anyone to resist, I suppose..."

"And yet…" And yet, she could see that a woman should want more. They should wish to be adored, conversed with, thought of as he did Lyanna and now as he found himself wishing to show Katerina.

"I know not why he called me," continued to call upon her, requesting her presence, before she came to stay at Harte Manor, "he seems to not care about me at all."

"Many a union has been built on much less." It had been close to two months that his brother had been stringing along her affections. Most likely, as a human she assumed he was courting her, hoping for a proposal in the end.

"Is it wrong to want more?" Elijah sat beside her, "Do you have more with Trevor?" It was difficult to ignore, especially with his frequent visits to Greyshaw, Trevor's persistent presence there and his non- too subtle attentions paid to Katerina. All things, Niklaus, who was always gone, overlooking details, failed to notice.

"Trevor believes that he loves me, but true love is not real unless it's returned. Do you agree?" No doubt Trevor had professed his love (fake presumably) multiple times to entice Katerina into a physical relationship. Stupidly so, he was playing with fire and bound to get burned by Klaus if he was discovered. However it seemed either way, Trevor's fate would be short lived. If he loved Katerina then it was only poetic that Klaus had decided that he would be their vampire for the sacrifice.

"I do not believe in love, Katerina." And he was almost sure that he meant it. Niklaus was right when he accused him of having feelings for Lyanna. He cared for her, but he did not know if he could call it love. Years ago, he'd learned how foolish that could be.

As Katerina locked him in one of her beckoning glances, he felt himself swallow. Memories of Tatia, painful ones coming back and new revelations about similar desires, wants, needs towards Katerina flooding him.

 _She's not the same_ , he tried to reassure himself.

"That is too sad for me to accept, my lord. Life is too cruel. If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?"

Before he had time to respond, Niklaus had appeared, blood staining his clothing, disheveled from his night of mindless fucking, feeding and debauchery- all things he'd done to distract himself from the other things, Lyanna type things, that had been plaguing his mind. As he guided her away, shooting his brother a knowing glance, Elijah felt sick.

What was life without feelings? And he had an eternity. He wished too often that Lyanna and Katerina did not question things, he'd set so firmly in his mind.

* * *

 

It well past the mid of night. There was a brief knock before she'd let herself in, without invitation. Niklaus would like to say that he was surprised, expected something different, but in reality the whole situation was just too cliché.

Her shifts hung off her shoulders, much too provocative to be natural. It was staged, the whole thing. Her look, her words, the context, made it all that less exciting, enticing, interesting, than what it was already lacking.

She hovered next to him, undoubtedly thinking of something to say, to break the tension.

"I missed you," she smiled. Everything about it felt wrong, too familiar. Tatia's face looking back at him, manipulative, cunning, wishing to create love from nothing, lust, desire, the requisition of something that could never be anyone's. As if she hadn't been toying with Elijah as well, Trevor and any man that would cross her path, give her even a moment's time.

The only thing she missed was constant affection, its source didn't' matter.

Neither amused nor enticed, he answered half heartedly, "Did you?"

The shift slid further from her shoulder, non- too subtly, exposing beast, areola, as if it were an accident.

"Of course," she answered, looking up at him from under heavy eyelashes, feigning innocence, terribly so.

His forehead wrinkled as he paid her a moment's glance before looking back out the window, into the darkness that had settled over the moors.

What was the widow Lockwood, Lyanna, doing now? Perhaps readying herself for bed, speaking with Lilly, cradling a cup of tea as she peered over her books, her hands blotted with ink as her forehead wrinkled in thought, penning another letter to Elijah, thinking of Elijah, dreaming of Elijah.

"Klaus?" Her hands crept up his shoulder, down to his stomach, her body leaning into him in an attempt to be seductive.

"Do you not want me?" She questioned, her shift slipping completely now from her shoulders, exposing both breasts.

No. He didn't. Not for anything more than possibly a meal, an immediate short fuck, and no conversation. Gods, had Tatia been so obvious and obnoxious? How naïve he must have been then. The more time he spent around Katerina, the more she reminded him of Tatia. The more he questioned his previous feelings, memories, delving into the past, beginning to separate reality from confused youthful lust.

Mayhaps Lyanna retired early. Mayhaps she didn't. He could imagine her staying up, much like himself, unable to sleep. Busying herself with things to occupy her time as everyone enjoyed peace, which seemed to elude them both.

He wondered if she wore that same white shift he'd seen her in before. Did she braid her hair before bed? Did she kneel and pray? What did she read when she was alone? What were her last thoughts before she fell asl-…

Why the hell was he thinking these things? What did it matter? Lyanna Lockwood could suffer through hell for all he cared.

"Yes," he answered, clearing his throat, his eyes still focused over the moors, in the direction of Greyshaw Manor for another moment.

" _Liars," her voice repeating in his mind. He was a liar._

"Lay down," he ordered, his thoughts still focused elsewhere. Unashamedly she let her shift drop to the floor as she stepped out of it. He didn't have to be a healer, a priest, or even a close confidant to know that he'd not be Katerina's first. At times he could smell other men on her, Elijah and other unfamiliar scents.

She'd thought she was so careful, so crafty. Stupid little girl, did she not know he'd seen her kind? He'd already been down that road. She was nothing new, nothing exceptional, her tricks old, inflections worn, mysteries already solved.

As she crawled on the four poster bed, pressed herself back into the pillows, slowly spread herself for him, he'd obliged and undressed himself. His movements slow, she probably assumed from distraction. And she'd be right. He was distracted.

Did Lyanna have someone keep watch? Was she careful around Lilly? Did she wake with the sunrise or was she a late sleeper? When she dreamed was it Elijah that she saw or was it her late husband? And when she wasn't so careful, when she let her mind wander… did _he_ ever drift through her scattered thoughts?

It was such a strange turn of events over the past few weeks. The doppelganger had begun to involve herself with Elijah, drawing his brother back into a sea of memories of a woman years past. He could see the way he looked at her. It was the same way (if he was introspective at all) he looked at Lyanna.

He watched his brother stumbling with his own private morality, enticed by Katerina, holding onto Lyanna, running to her rather for comfort. Had he known better (maybe because he wouldn't allow himself to think such things) he knew Elijah had developed feelings for Lyanna, pure affections but couldn't control himself from lusting after Katerina.

He saw the way Lyanna reacted to Elijah. So relaxed around him, natural in his company and he hated him for it. Where she'd avoid Niklaus, scorn his every attempt for conversation, she'd accept his brother with open arms.

Did she not know they were both monsters?

As he sunk into Katerina, violating her in every way imaginable throughout the night, he thought of Elijah. He may have Lyanna's affection, her trust. But he had Katerina's body. Something they both knew Elijah sought just as ardently as Klaus did Lyanna light.

Katerina mewled beneath his, at times whispering promises of love. All of which went unreturned, unanswered. And when he was done with her, she'd quickly tried to curl herself around him, falling instantly asleep, lulled by the illusion of satisfaction.

Prying her limbs from himself, he crawled out of the bed, returning to the window, continuing his vigil. Somewhere over the moors, she slept.

Frost had etched it way around the each pane, making it increasingly more difficult to see out. Leery of sleep, not wishing again to have that same dream, he reached for pieces of odd charcoal he'd left scattered on the window seal.

As Katerina slept, dreaming of her new lover's affections, envisioning children, a home, a life, that she'd never have, Klaus drew her (not Katerina) out in painstaking details. Closing his eyes, trying to recall every inflection on Hannah's face, the tilt of her mouth as she'd taunted him before her plunge, that night in the canal house.

He drew Anne's eyes, her hands reaching for him as she died. And finally Lyanna: dozens and dozens of sketches of Lyanna. Tracing and re tracing every detail, so familiar and still unique to her.

When the sun had begun to peak over the moors, his hands smudged black, sketches littered around his chair, he looked out over the Lockwood lands one more time.

"No," he answered out loud, weeks too late, without the needed party even present. He finally gave the answer, to the question Lyanna had asked him twice. Did he care for Katerina? No. He'd never care for Katerina.

She didn't ask the right question. That was the problem.

Did he care for Lyanna?

He didn't know it then, actually really he did. As Katerina stirred, he collected the sketches, placing them in the drawer with his other keep sakes.

Yes. He cared for Lyanna. Much more than he wished he did, or was even aware of then. It only complicated matters. No matter how much she interested him, the number of pictures he drew of her, the amount of times he'd had that same dream, it would all end the same.

She'd die.

* * *

 

It was time; finally the full moon had arrived. Throughout the day, he was anxious, pacing around Harte Manor, setting every detail in order. They would have to secure Lilly and Lyanna. As soon as the sun had set over the moors, the brothers would make their way Greyshaw Manor.

It was a solid plan. The only problem, again, was that it didn't account for incidentals.

* * *

 

When dusk was near, Lyanna looked to Lilly whose skin had gone ash with fear.

"What happens now?"

"We wait, Love."

Gathering a few items, Elspeth had tried desperately to stop her from going.

"You are a fool. Let the child go alone."

But she couldn't. Lilly was scared and Lyanna couldn't just leave her to the night. In many weeks since Lammas Day, the evenings had become increasingly chilly, a damp, heavy fog settling over the grounds. Walking past the ruined gardens, Lilly reached for Lyanna's hand as they neared the woods.

She would take her to his spot. The place that Nathaniel had shown her once, where he'd chain himself up, to prevent himself from doing something he'd forever regret.

It seemed like it took forever to get there, as they weaved further into the dark forest. Elspeth was right. She was a damn idiot. They'd be crawling all over the woods on a night like tonight. They'd be waiting for them. They were waiting for Lilly, to kill her.

That's why she'd come. Without a contingency plan, if Lilly was to die, Lyanna would be short behind. And she wouldn't let Lilly die alone.

"This is it?"

Lyanna nodded, looking up the sky, crowded with overlying branches from the tree above.

Shakily Lilly stepped forward, examining the towering rocks, rusty chains wrapped about them.

"You do not have to do this, Lilly." That was a lie; they both knew she had to.

"No, I'll be fine," she replied, pressing herself against the stone, nodding as Lyanna's hands shook with the keys. Unlocking the rusty chains she wrapped them around Lilly tight, an apology in her eyes, before clamping the lock shut.

"Now what?" Lilly whispered, tethered to the large stone.

"We wait," Lyanna answered, wiping sweat from the girl's forehead. And they wouldn't need to wait long, the sky had already grown dark, the forest black. Without a fire, afraid of drawing unwanted attention, Lyanna hovered close, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

The screams that began moments later, were as crushing for Lyanna was they were painful for Lilly.

* * *

 

"This will be simple. No mistakes, you understand Kol?"

His brother looked at him ambivalent, "I am not an idiot. I think I can manage."

"A werewolf, really?"

"Please…." Kol commented. Things hadn't gone as he'd planned. He'd tried for weeks, unrelenting with Lilly and she'd never faltered. Now he'd never know. To be honest, part of him was sincerely disappointed; annoyed even that it was him that had to retrieve her, wishing desperately to avoid the betrayal that would inevitably be present in her eyes.

Why couldn't Elijah do it? Simple, someone had to keep watch of the doppelganger and Klaus hadn't volunteered. As planned they'd waited for sunset before starting out. They'd not even bothered to check the house first.

Lyanna wasn't stupid. She knew what was coming. Lilly would change, and a wolf in someone's home was not a welcomed sight. In all of his snooping through the woods, he'd found it. A place he'd assumed someone, some wolf had been using for years. Mayhaps not the Lockwood's, but without a doubt if Lyanna knew of it that is where she'd take her.

Lyanna didn't seem the type to allow Lilly to wander around the countryside, preying on any human's she found. And wherever Lilly was, if Niklaus knew Lyanna, one thing was sure; his Lucifer wouldn't be far behind.

* * *

 

"Lyanna!" she screamed, her body contorting into hideous forms, eyes piercingly yellow. Scrambling, Lyanna reached out, cradling the girl close as he body slammed into Lyanna throwing her back, before falling helpless into the stone.

"I'm here Lilly. I'm not going anywhere."

Her responses were a mixture of screams and growls, heavy panting. First it was her hands, turning from their fleshy white appearance, to black, fir sprouting out everywhere. Next, it was her head, snapping back, teeth descending.

She hadn't even noticed it, but Lyanna had tears streaming down her face as she hovered as close as possible. So caught up in the moment was she, that she'd missed their presence, sets of eyes flickering throughout the dark forest, their paws crunching on undergrowth.

"Lilly, I swear… everything…." Her voice trailed off as the girl fully began to transform, "it will be fine," she finished weakly. She heard them before she saw. Howling, horrible, hideous howling, echoing throughout the forest, threatening.

It was everywhere, behind her, to the side, above and below it seemed, everywhere but in front, Lilly not howling only screaming.

Slowly, Lyanna stood from her place in the dirt, wiped tears from her face, and straightened her back. This was it. Feeling the small dagger, the one Elspeth had handed her before she left, in her pocket, she prayed, "Lord be with us now", before turning.

There were easily close to twenty. Circled around where Lilly was helplessly tethered, they closed in slowly, teeth bared. Subconsciously, Lyanna took a step back, only to feel something nipping at her heels.

Her head whipped back, to find Lilly's clothes in shreds. The loving little sister she'd always known, gone: a huge black wolf, in her place, with yellow eyes, and saliva dripping from her fangs.

"Lilly," she whispered, reaching out, only to have the beast snap at her hand. Swallowing, she knew it was time: now or never.

Digging in the folds of her dress she pulled out her flint stone, a few quick strikes and she had her small piece of cloth lit. Quickly crawling on the ground, she dropped the flaming cloth on what seemed like bare dirt and then rushed back, fire nipping at the edge of her skirt. The wolves were ready to strike, kill, get what they'd come for when they were stopped.

Howling, they snapped at the air, the vision blurring. Wolfsbane, soaked in burning oils, it encircled the rocks, Lilly and Lyanna. Defusing into the air, the smell of it was strong enough to deter the beasts, if not the burn of it against their fur if they approached, it was drying the of the moisture in their eyes and noses, forcing their heads away.

Lilly too howled in response. The poison irritating her senses as well, making it almost unbearable. But they knew this would happen. Painful, it would be for Lilly, but necessary for it would save their lives and hopefully keep the wolves at bay throughout the night. Falling back into the rocks, she moved out of Lilly's grasp, as she growled, snapped and struggled to reach her. Lyanna, pulling her head between her knees.

"Mother Mary, be with us sinners now and in the hour of our death," she prayed, which very well might be soon.

Rocking back and forth, attempting to block out the horrible noises, Lilly's furry and pain, she missed it. One by one the howls turned into fervent snapping, the sounds of fighting taking place out of view, behind the blaze.

When fire had appeared in the distance, Wolfsbane carried on the wind, Klaus and Kol looked at one another, before rushing forward. They'd most certainly found the women, no doubt. Only Lyanna… with her damn Wolfsbane.

The beasts, circled the fire daring to get as close as possible, until they sensed that they were not alone. Heads turned, finding the Vampires as Kol answered, "And I thought this evening would be uneventful."

He hardly got the words out before he was on the ground, struggling with the first wolf to attack. Klaus was shortly behind, fighting them off, throwing them aside.

True, the wolves couldn't kill them but their bites were painful none the less, much less so for Klaus than Kol.

"Lyanna," his voice called to her irritated.

Her head popped up from her knees to find him standing there, in singed clothing. His eyes black, and to her confusion and horror, fangs clearly showing, blood dripping from him.

"Niklaus?" she was scrambling against the rock, as Lilly lunged for him against her chains.

Boldly, a wolf pushed through the flames, half burned, the Wolfsbane weakening its system as it crawled towards Niklaus. Looking down at it, he bent, snapping it neck.

"Time to go, Love," he answered harshly, sarcastically, using her word. Lyanna looked at him horrified. One word screaming through her mind as she looked at his fangs. A dozen small things collecting and piecing together at once: his questions about Vervain, not entering her home, his interest in the wolves, in them.

As another wolf followed its brethren's path jumping across the flames, it was followed by Kol.

"Lyanna, imaging finding you here," he snickered smartly, a wolf surprising him as it bit into his shoulder, eliciting a groan from Kol as he struggled with it.

Lyanna knew not what possessed her as the brothers fought with the wolves that entered the circle. All she could think of was Lilly and Katerina. Lilly would die still chain to the stone. Katerina was trapped inside that home with Vampires.

Lies, Lies, they had all lied to them, making them fools. How could she have done this to Katerina? Her hands were struggling with the key in the lock, torquing it open before her mind could catch up with her actions.

The chains slumped from around Lilly and before Lyanna could think, her little sister was lunging at her, sure to kill her in a fit of rage before something caught her tail, pulling her back.

"Lilly dear, lovely to see you," Kol comment, half shouted as he struggled to control the black wolf, Lilly, as she fought against him, snapping. When another attacked from behind, Kol was forced to release her.

Lyanna still in shock, watched as Lilly took the cue and instead of continuing the attack, strangely looked at Lyanna before taking advantage of the small window in the circle, where the oil had burned low, almost out. Jumping through, she was off, fleeing into the woods.

Leaving Lyanna to think one thing: RUN.

In the middle of fighting both Niklaus and Kol were enthralled with beating off the wolves, she made it out of the circle, sprinting as fast as she could. She had to get to Katerina. She had to find Lilly.

Their howls and screams, growling, the Mikaelson curses echoed behind her and as she looked back, almost tripping over low lying branches she saw him. He may have been distracted but he was not blind.

Caught up the moment, dripping with blood and excitement he looked around to find her missing. Not dead, her body would be there, but missing, as well as his wolf.

"Kol, find Lilly!" he barked. Kol smirking on the ground, a wolf's teeth snapping at his face as he slowly choked air from the animal, "No problem," he groaned.

It took him minutes to find her, spreading out in every direction, throwing the wolves that attempted to trail him. But soon enough he found her, yellow hair flashing through the trees, heavy human breathing.

Catching her by the back of her dress, struggling like a child against an adult, she thrashed against him. Falling back like a rag doll, she could feel him yanking at the neck of her dress, his breath hot on the skin of her neck.

Overcome by animal instinct, adrenaline, victory, lust, aggravation, all of it pumping through him, screaming for blood.

Acting purely on instinct, eyes closed, she fumbled through her skirts, pulling out the blade jabbing it backwards as it sunk into the flesh of his abdomen. Deterring him only momentarily, she ripped the knife from his flesh as he pushed her forward. Struggling back, he was on her in moment, blood dripping from his shirt. Nails scrapped against his cheeks, the skin of his throat, her hands pushing his face away as he bared his fangs. Hastily she lifted the blade again, but this time he caught her hand. With little effort, he stopped her, his fingers digging painfully into her skin, the bones of her wrist on the brink of snapping.

Surprisingly she didn't cry out, she didn't scream. Her brows knitting together in excruciating pain, tears welled in her eyes as she fought to push the blade forward, possibly snapping her wrist in the process. A low, soft cry sounding throughout the forest as the bones shifted against one another other.

Maybe it was the fact that she was willing to allow herself to break, fight back, even if it was pointless. It could have been that she didn't cry, even though he knew she must be in excruciating pain. Or it was the fact that her stare was unwavering throughout the entire struggle. Something about it was so hauntingly familiar, as his mind flashing back to Hannah for less than a second. When he saw tears welling in her eyes, the muscles in her throat tensing with agony, he stopped. Suddenly feeling terrible guilty. He was hurting her. The blade fell to the ground, as Lyanna retracted her arm, like a wounded animal, but stopped when he reached out, grasping it, gentler this time.

Both panting, he forgot about draining her dry for a minute, her attempting to stab him to death as he examined it.

It was broke. He could tell by looking at it and immediately wished he could take it all back. Lyanna flinching as he touched the skin around it. What had he done?

He had to fix it. Why did he have to fix it? Klaus was overwhelmed with a range of emotions all of them painfully unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Forgetting that she'd stabbed him, everything that had happened minutes before. He looked up from her wrist to see her fighting back tears, too proud to cry.

"Lyanna…." He murmured.

Bringing his own wrist to his mouth, he did something he'd never done before. Piercing the skin, blood trickled out of the veins. Holding it out to her, he ordered, "Drink, it will help."

She shook her head, a tear rolling down the side of her face, as she tried to bring her arm back to caudal. Struggling to get away from him, she had to get to Katerina and Lilly.

But he pulled her back, thwarting her efforts.

"DRINK!" he commanded more sternly.

"No."

"Damn you, Lyanna! Do not be so stubborn. You are hurt."

"And you did it."

The vein had closed by now, rehealing itself. Only Lyanna would argue at a moment like this.

"You stabbed me," he defended, irritated.

"You tried to bite me," she shot back.

She had him there. Instinct had taken over, he'd momentarily forgotten about the Vervain.

"You ran from me."

"You were trying to kill me!"

Yes that was right. He had forgotten. He was in the middle of trying to kill her. Only Lyanna could argue her way out of death.

"Yes, well plans change."

"How fortunate for you."

He was so wrapped up in their argument that he hadn't noticed that she'd fingered the blade with her other hand, grasping the handle.

"For me? I am not the one whom is injured."

Without further invitation, she stabbed him again, the knife sinking into his side. Not wasting a moment she scrambled from the ground to run.

Wincing, Klaus pulled the blade from below his last rib, "Now you just did that to irritate me." But she didn't hear, not looking back she clutched her arm to chest, dodging trees. She could see the lake in view, if she could just get to the lake. It was only so much further. Her feet hit rocks, less than a yard from the water when she was pulled back hard, slamming into what felt like a rock- otherwise known as Niklaus.

"We were not finished with our argument yet."

Struggling, she answered, "Let me finish it from inside the lake." The harder she fought against his grasp, the tighter he held her.

"No, no. That will not due. See we both know that gives you an unfair advantage."

"Let us try it out and just see," she grunted. And damn her, but he couldn't help but smile, even in a moment like this, almost dying twice, always coming back with some witty reply.

"Too cold, Ly, you will freeze." Ly? Why had he started calling her Ly? Not even Elijah called her that, only Lilly and Katerina.

As he pulled her back away from the water, she did the only thing she could think, she answered, "I will take my chances," before biting him hard on the arm. Releasing her more from shock than from pain, he stammered, "You bit me."

"You tried to bite me!" she fired back, like a child.

"You stabbed me, twice."

"You deserved it," She answered, nodding to her arm still cradled against her chest.

"I offered to remedy that situation."

What were they doing? Realizing that he was no longer holding her, she turned dashing back, her feet hitting the water before he could grab her again. Wading fast, it was past her knees; far enough from shore that he'd dare not wander out, before she turned.

The water was like ice, her breath fogging in front of her face.

Shivering, she tried to stand up straight, look formidable but the shock was wearing off, her arm was throbbing, her knees rattling together, water lapping around her.

"Lyanna, Pet, come out of the water," he tried gentler this time. He should be focused on killing her but all her could think about was how miserable she looked. She'd catch her death out there.

"Niklaus, Love," she shot back just as condescending, "you address me as Pet, one more time and I swear I will make good on my promise."

 _Never mind_ , he thought. Let her catch some horrible illness and suffer.

"Now that would be difficult, with you out there and me here."

"True, you should be a gentleman and come out here to accommodate me."

"I could think of other ways to accommodate you," it was not meant to sound sexual but it did.

Making a face, she answered, "I will pass." Ending their conversation as he began pacing the shore and she began trying to plot how she could get to Lilly and Katerina.

This continued for quite some time as they were at an impasse.

When she could stand it no longer, she started to crumple to her knees, she entire upper half surrounded by water as she huddled into herself for warmth. Her eyes were closing; maybe she'd be lucky and just die out here. At this point she was too weak to fight.

Standing on the shore, he'd been pacing for an hour, waiting. Until finally he could take it no more, she looked so pathetic, clearly in pain, exhausted and would freeze to death if he didn't intervene.

The night was damn near wasted now. What if Kol hadn't found Lilly? Why did he care so much that she was in pain?

Didn't he plan on killing her after Ines solved the mystery?

"Damn you, Lyanna."

With thinking any further on the matter, he waded into the lake, water burning his skin, eliciting a hiss as he trudged further. Bending he picked her up, without resistance. She couldn't have fought it she wanted to.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably as he stepped on the shore.

"Why are you so stubborn? You would have frozen to death."

"I-I-m d-dd-dead an-any h-how," she chattered.

"Shh…" he hushed, annoyed, confused, and concerned.

As he trudged through the forest, she finally answered, "D-do n-not t-t-think th-this means you have –s-saved me."

"I have most certainly saved you."

"Just before you kill me."

Again, why? What were these strange feelings? It was guilt. Oh how he hated it. It was so bitter and haunting as she shivered against him, the Vervain burning his skin.

Oh, what the hell, her hours were number anyhow. For the first time, ever, he said it and meant it whole heartedly, "I'm sorry, Lyanna. I am sorry I hurt you."

"I must be dying."

"Now why would you say that?"

She smiled, weakly, "You apologized," knowing the end was near.

"Are you ever quiet?" he snapped, as she called him out.

"Yes, when I am alone and you are nowhere in sight. Let us try it."

"Clever, no I have plans for you."  
"Take me back to the lake," she deadpanned.

"Shh… rest."

"Niklaus… I will let you kill me."

'Let', he loved her choice of words.

"Just do not harm Lilly or Katerina," she murmured beginning to fade out of consciousness from shock.


	3. You're Uninvited, An Unfortunate Slight

This can't just be a chemical  
From now any other pain is bearable

I mean you have me on my knees

You've got me on the floor again

All I can picture is held hands, coming apart

Knees: Peter and Kerry

* * *

**1492 AD Scrathclyde, England**

She was dreaming again. She loved this dream and hated it just as much.

"Are you following me?"

"I think you followed me." Leaning up against a nearby tree with arms folded, Kol stared back at her. "Well I may have been convinced," he added, eyebrows rising as he gave her a long lingering glance.

Looking down, Lilly rolled her eyes, "Why is it that you are always clothed?" she questioned, disapproving.

"I know what I look like without clothing," he replied appreciatively, circling her.

"I don't…" she shot back, dodging his grabby hands. Catching her elbow, he pulled her closer.

"Do you think of me without clothing, Lilly?"

Pushing, toying with him, she answered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Why must you always be such a tease?"

"A tease?" she laughed, "Would that not imply that I am offering to begin with?"

He disappeared, appearing behind her, breathing on her neck, "Are you not?"

Kissing her, his hands trailed over Lilly's stomach, moving suggestively south as if he knew that was what she wanted.

"Perhaps…" she bit her lip, leaning further into him in anticipation, "For a husband," causing him to stiffen and pull back as soon as his hand hit her upper thigh.

Disappointed, she commented, "Who is the tease now?" turning to look at him.

"Say it first," he implored, smirking, knowing a little too well how badly she wanted to be touched.

"Say what first?"

"You know…" he coaxed, pulling her closer, hands sliding down her backside, groping.

"Kol…" she murmured, lips on his neck, exciting him, just as much as he, her.

"Yes?"

"What are your intentions?" she inquired, partially joking but somewhat serious.

"Pure, I promise," he snickered, kissing her neck.

"You're lying…."

"Only a wolf…."

"How do you know I'm a wolf?"

"You smell like one and you're as irritating as one," he muttered, cupping her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Have you known many females wolves?"

"You'd be the first."

His hand moved past her naval, nudging her legs open a little before inserting a finger inside her, eliciting the pleased sound he was looking for.

Sucking in air, her head felt warm and dizzy as she tried to remember what it was that she wanted to say. All she could think of was, _Yes…._

Finally managing, "Does that make me special?"

"In what way?" He enjoyed watching her face as she lost herself in his movements, her hips rocking with his hand.

"You know…" she whispered, losing her place in their conversation, struggling to focus.

"Will I wed you?" he scoffed.

Focus returning, face contorting with ambivelence, her hips stopped, legs closing around his hand, "Who said I wanted to wed you?" she threw back, obviously a little wounded at his immediate dismissal.

"I've seen that look before," he replied, only this time it wasn't in Lilly's mind it was out loud, waking her.

Eyes snapping open, she looked down to find herself naked, a hand pressed between her legs, a body cushioned behind her. Surprised, Lilly's head whipped back to find Kol smiling down.

"Morning, Lil," he greeted.

A shriek sounded throughout the forest, as she scrambled from the ground.

"What are you doing here?!" she screamed.

Perched against the base of a tree, wearing a torn shirt covered in dried blood, Kol answered, "Enjoying the view," suggestively.

Remembering that she was still very much bare, her hands darted down to her breasts and other privates, trying to cover as much as she possibly could.

She made a face, clearly disgusted with his lewdness.

"Now is that anyway to greet someone who saved you?"

"Saved me?"

Suddenly it all came flooding back, in brief glimpses until they formed complete memories: the rocks, the fire, Lyanna, the pack, Klaus and Kol.

Watching as a wave of realization come over her, Kol commented, "I'd thought you'd be brown. But black, I like it, the irony… lone wolf and all."

"Where's Lyanna!" she barked this time.

Rising from the ground, Kol dusted dirt and leaves from his breeches.

"I assume with my brother."

The fangs, the things she'd seen the night before and the instincts she remembered so well: repulsion, hatred.

"I know what you are and if she is harmed in any way…."

"You'll do what?" Kol laughed, stepping forward as a mocking challenge. It may have been the lingering impulses from the night before, or the realization that somehow he had understood her dreams, had been able to see inside her mind, was touching her- and knew she enjoyed it. But really it was the thought of Lyanna hurt that brought it out. Lunging forward, her hand caught his throat and with a strength she had yet to harness and employ on another person, she slammed him back against the tree.

The trunk splintered and cracked from the force as she lifted him centimeters off the ground, well above her own height. She was easily crushing his wind pipe and it felt glorious, his face turned red. He coughed then smiled, "Temper Lilly?" he rasped.

"When I find her, you should hope she's in good condition," she threatened, "Or else, you will see my full temper." With that she released him, letting Kol drop to the ground.

Turning on her heels, naked as the day she was born, she headed back through the forest.

"Is that a promise, Lilly?" he yelled after her, grinning ear to ear, watching her go. They'd have to continue this later, now that there would be a later. Undoubtedly at that very moment Klaus was off somewhere fuming. They had missed another opportunity.

And he'd never been more thankful than in that moment for plans ruined. He may not have gotten exactly what he'd imagined, or rather let her imagine, but he was surely rewarded for his efforts.

Granted she wasn't writhing under him, while he pulled her hair, making the sweet, not so innocent, Lilly scream his name, pleading with him to continue. But strangely it was a different kind of satisfaction. Watching her turn and hunt him as he hunted her. Having Lilly relent as dawn broke, falling asleep on top of him: safe from the pack and most importantly Klaus.

Why did he care? He may have bought her thirty one days by not carrying her back to Harte Manor, but that wasn't a lifetime. Soon enough Lilly would have to die. That was unless Klaus had found a substitute during the night or could find another.

Was there not a whole forest of them, an entire pack surrounding them? Surely, Klaus could reconsider.

He had thirty one days...

* * *

 

She was splayed out on the table, completely unconscious. Elijah hovered in the corner, trying to look indifferent to what was soon to play out. Katerina was drugged and asleep as Trevor waited outside the door becoming a nuisance.

It was close to sunrise and Kol was nowhere to be found.

"He is doing this on purpose," Klaus accused, pacing the room.

"Klaus be reasonable. Mayhaps he is still looking for the girl."

"We should have found another," throwing his arms out in frustrated exasperation. "There was a whole forest of wolves. I should have just taken one…"

If the floors were made of wood, they would have been worn by now from his agitated movements.

"No, make no mistake, he's stalling, he's doing it for that girl," Klaus sneered. Relations between Kol and Klaus had never been good, but with each minute that passed, that Kol didn't arrive, they threatened to sever forever.

"He will come, Klaus. He knows what is at stake… for us all. The girl means nothing," Elijah responded, certain he was right. Kol had never loved or cared for anyone other than himself.

"It doesn't matter now, it's too late," his fist slammed on the table that held Lyanna. Patiently, Elijah tried to ride out Klaus's outbursts. But the more time that passed in waiting, the more he worried.

"Her arm, Klaus, if we don't treat it soon…." Elijah tried his best to sound technical and detached but his eyes lingered moments too long on Lyanna.

"I'll break the other one if you mention her name, one, more, time," Klaus threatened. Everything was slipping through his fingers. The wolf was gone, Kol along with her, Lyanna looked dead on the table and Elijah- the way he attempted to hide his apparent disgust at Lyanna's state. His eyes accusing, it was almost more than Klaus could take.

 _She did it to herself!_ He wanted to scream. _In my position you would have done the same._

On edge, his hearing was more attuned than usual. Every creak in the Manor sounded like thunder in its amplitude. So when the doors by the servant's quarters, adjacent to the kitchen opened, halls away, Klaus was out the door and on his way before Elijah could think to protest. Kol was back and was soon to meet his brother's fury.

Looking to Ines, Elijah took his opportunity. Motioning to the blade she kept with the other items on the table, she passed it to him. Pulling up the sleeve of his tunic, he cut his wrist, letting the liquid drip into the chalice Ines kept amongst her things.

"When she wakes, you will brew her tea. Mix that with the tea," he instructed Ines who looked at him warily.

His efforts were likely to set his brother over the edge. What Klaus may have been so easily able to hide from Elijah and everyone else, wouldn't be kept secret from Ines.

The way he looked at the unconscious woman. His aversion spoke a little too closely to affection, and a hidden concern.

Yelling could be heard throughout the hallowed halls as Klaus and Kol made their way back.

"I did the best that I could. I tracked her until day light."

"And you could not bring her here?! She is likely off rallying the local village to burn us to the ground, as we speak."

"Must you be so dramatic, Klaus?" Kol yawned.

Turning, Klaus had Kol by the throat, lifting him from the ground. Twice in one morning, Kol found himself in this position, only this time it was slightly less exciting.

"You had one duty and you could not fulfill it. You are useless!" he bellowed, dropping him to the ground.

"One duty?!" Kol challenged, "While you were off chasing your little widow I was fending off a pack."

"Brothers," Elijah gently intervened, "What is done is done. We have missed another opportunity and now we must look forward."

Looking at Kol, Klaus snapped, "Out, I do not care what hole you crawl into. I want you out of my sight."

Smirking, Kol flatly answered, "Fine by me. It is meal time anyhow."

With each brother that entered and exited the room, Trevor who was waiting outside became more anxious and curious.

"Will you please deal with him?" Klaus requested of Elijah.

"Lyanna?"

Sighing, annoyed, Klaus answered, "Your widow is safe… for now. Ines will have a look at her."

When Elijah left to tend to Trevor and weave whatever fantasy of lies was needed for Trevor to drop whatever suspicions he was likely forming, Klaus defaulted to Ines. If one thing could be salvaged out of this ruined plan, this would be it.

Finally he'd get his answers about Lyanna Lockwood and the ghosts that trailed behind her. Circumspect, Ines leaned over the woman, wrist black and purple, swollen three times its normal size.

Taking the blade, Elijah had previously used, she subtly wiped the blood from the steel onto the back of her skirt before bring it to the girl's wrist. Quick and delicate, she carved a thin line, letting the semi coagulated blood drip into mortar she'd prepared. When she'd collected enough, the wound clotting, she returned to her stack of supplies, setting it aside.

"I need your blood."

Suspiciously, Klaus questioned, "What for?"

"You wish to know of the girl, do you not?"

"Do you know what it is?"

"I have my suspicions."

He bit into his own wrist, blood pouring from the wound as she collected it in the same mortar, watching the liquids meld together.

Red at first, oxygenated and healthy, together their consistency became black as night, like nothing she'd ever seen. It was a struggle between both sources for dominance, an unlawful yielding.

Looking at Klaus she dipped her fingers into the vessel, covering them in blood before allow it to drip out over the wooden table.

What was red and viscous before was now black and slicker than water. It spread over the wood, dividing itself before coming back together. As if it had two separate minds.

Confused, concerned, Klaus looked at the liquid that appeared as if it were poison.

"Ines?"

Without further occasion, she brought the mortar to her mouth, letting only a drop slip onto her tongue.

Closing her eyes, lips pressed together, the metallic, bitter liquid, diffused through the first layers of tissue below her tongue, mingling with her own blood. Quickly, she began chanting, her soft, punctuated phrases.

A bystander, Klaus had no notion what was happening. The seconds drug on, the witch became encapsulated in her own little world: her face contorting.

_A woman with plain features, unnoticed and unappreciated struggles with a child, laying it down in a pasture of plants. On hands and knees she crawls forth finding a man and woman locked and rutting away like animals._

_Niklaus._

_Ines feels pain._

_She sees the same young girl, watching a woman, remarkable in her beauty, identical to his doppelganger, as she lies to those around her- drawing them into her web of deceit. All the while the unremarkable girl stays silent, patient and always loyal._

_Ines is flitting through time._

_The original to his doppelganger is struggling in the woods, torn from her child. Her blood is spilling over dirt ground, a little girl reaching for her mother to pick her up- desperate not to be left._

_Niklaus, again, but not as he was in the field. He's colder now. Predatory, life drained from his face. He looks at the plain girl, hungry. He tries to manipulate her only to receive resistance. He feeds just the same._

_The girl is dead, lying in a field, a woman hovering over her._

" _They'll be beautiful," she whispers knowingly, hands touching her face, bringing color back into her features: Magic._

_There's a promise that is made. A connection, ties of loyalty, strings slithering out, like snakes, connecting this sad forgotten girl and her body to others: faceless figures, hovering in the shadows, like threads in weave- tied to her implicitly._

_A black vine, wrapping around pale feet and legs, connecting some to faceless women: smell of Vervain in the air._

_La via, la vertia, la luce_

_Darkness..._

_A young woman, dark hair, unsure in nature, looks up at a man. Cheeks red, eyes diverted, she takes his hand._

_Niklaus._

_He feeds from her, takes from her, whittling away at her innocence, light. And then she kneels over him stake in hand, plunging it into him._

"La tua cura, Pet."

_Hatred in her eyes, she yells something Ines can't decipher before dropping into the unknown._

_Darkness…_

_Pale eyes, a gentle smile and death: Ines can smell it in the air. There's loss and sadness, both his and hers._

_Darkness…_

_Light. Blinding light and blond curls decorated with black snowflakes falling from the sky. Katerina's face flashes through Lyanna's mind._

_Keep her safe._

" _Let me show you…" she whispers, warm in its genuine feeling and comfort. Ines feels a sense of relief, joy but soon it turns to ash, filling her mouth, the smell of fire burning her senses._

" _You will pray to the God that you deny and recieve only silence," echoes throughout her mind._

_Pain, sincere, biting, unbearable pain, Ines can't take it._

_Darkness…_

_Screams fill the streets, bodies fall in vain, blood spills on stones. The material of her dress is torn, blood smeared on her face. Eye purpling from a bruise and without hesitation she pushes forward the knife in hand, hatred seeping out of every pore._

" _Vous allez mourir ou je le ferai," (You will die or I will)_

_Darkness…_

_There are feet dangling as his hand meets her skirt._

_Memories, but they aren't real._

_Darkness…_

_Incense in the air. She struggles, hands pushing hard upwards. But he's stronger. He's always stronger. Rosary beads sway and clatter against stone. Water splashes onto his hands. He closes his eyes, jaw tense and looks up. Christ on his cross, leering down in judgment, seeing and knowing all along._

_But he doesn't believe. He won't let himself feel guilt._

" _You are not light. And this is not your world," Niklaus answers this sorrowful figure._

_Darkness…_

_Heavy rains falls, sweltering heat. She stands; dress thick with mud, dark hair lying flat against her face._

" _You've given me nothing!" she screams. "Now it's all I have." He tries to hug her, pull her close, almost reluctantly on his part, but she pushes him away, leaving him._

_He's always left._

_Darkness…_

_Bloody feet patter against clean floors, the material of her short dress swaying as she struggles down the long hall. Sweat blotting into the feathers in her short hair, the stake in her hand scraping against the wall she uses to support herself, cold steel pressing into her thigh._

" _Family, Emily... Family," some strange male voice whispers in her ears, urging her forward._

_Ines feels disgust, loss but mostly desperation._

_And love, bitter, rich, suffocating, maddening love. It's so warm that it's hot. It's so brief it feels unreal. It's so haunting that it crawls under Ines' skin, chilling, disgusting clawing at any sense of self and security a person could have._

_She feels like death and wishes nothing more than to go back and revisit it all: every second, for only a moment longer. Couldn't this last a little while longer? The light, give her light._

_Darkness…_

Ines' eyes snapped open and she understood. The connection that she felt between them, so bitter and salient to every thought and inflection: there's a reason.

"What did you see?"

The beginning of the end for Klaus, a long line of struggle and pain, is all that ran through her mind. She saw a plain little girl that started it all, who for her loyalty was cursed and another… whose beauty was unparalleled along with her selfishness.

Ines saw the doppelganger that he sought and her protector that lay on the table before them.

"vid envenenado"

"What does that mean?"

"The finest wine can only come from the poisoned vine," she answered just as cryptically.

He would suffer, as he had sought to make Ines suffer and bend to his will, she would force Klaus into the same fate. Could she have told him then, everything she knew? Yes. Would she? No.

Just enough to keep those that she loved safe.

"Give me your hand," she requested. "You wish to see her connection, I will show you."

Ines could feel the wall that had been built around the woman. It ran in her veins, blocking him from her mind, leaving the girl a mystery.

When his hand touched Lyanna's hair, covered by Ines', it flooded over him.

_Lilly's face followed by Katerina's and a feeling so strong, a need to protect. He could hear the crackling of fire and the howling of the wolves- sense her fears and worries._

_Katerina's face, again, he could feel her forcing herself forward._

_Katerina. Katerina. Find Katerina. Protect Katerina. It screamed through her mind so loudly it was deafening to Klaus._

_He saw water, he didn't know where or what it meant. And he saw a stone. The moonstone? It looked almost identical. Fingers brushed over its polished surface, turning it. A thin yellow line ran down the back._

_It was an imitation. Not the real thing. But they thought it was. He could feel the sense of urgency, surrounding the object and her obsession with it._

_Eyes looked up, focusing on a man with dark hair, dark eyes and a welcoming smile._

" _This is our legacy, Lyanna. We must protect this, for our children." He could feel it then. It was her late husband staring back at him. Eyes warm with love, hope._

_And then the stone, the stone. Her mind focused endlessly on it. He could see it slipping below water and falling into darkness._

_The lake._

_Images of wolves again, surrounding her. Lilly's black fur appearing from the corner of her eye. Katerina, Katerina._

_She needed to find Katerina and protect her._

_Then he could see himself. Fangs bared, eyes dark, he stalked towards her._

_Katerina. Katerina. Lilly… were the only thoughts that circled her mind._

_Her feet were cold. Muscles and arm aching. He could see himself pacing on the shore._

_Let me die. Just let me die, God. If I die and they live, it will be worth it._

_The stone._

_The stone._

Eyes snapping open, he looked down at Lyanna. There was a moonstone, a fake- product of another one of his lies over the years.

She wanted to get the moonstone and trade it for Lilly's life. She feared that was why they were there. He could see it flashing through her mind; concern that he sought her for the moonstone, to break the curse.

And her concern for Katerina, she was tied to her: strongly. Lyanna was connected to Lilly but this was different. Lilly could protect herself. Katerina was vulnerable.

"Tell me what you know…."

 _The power you hunt for you'll never find. The love you run from, you'll run to, forever. And the light you seek, you'll squelch, with every move you make,_ Ines thought.

"What did you see?"

"You know what I saw," a hint of anger coloring his voice. "Tell me the rest. I can only see what she knows… but you know more."

Swallowing, Ines answered, "She is a hunter."

"Is she part of the curse? A spawn from the original five that we spoke of?"

She hesitated.

"Tell me Ines, or your daughter will writhe in pain and every child born in your line after," he threatened.

"No. She is not from the original five that you say you killed."

"Then why is she here?"

"For you Klaus and for the girl, your doppelganger."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what you saw. Her connection to Katerina, it was strong was it not? Her need to protect her, shelter her," her tone toyed with him.

Yes, Klaus knew what he saw.

"She is tied to the doppelganger."

"And those before?"

"Yes..."

"Hannah, there was no doppelganger, nor was there with the other."

Ines paused in thought, before continuing, "The pull, that feeling that you have…. I felt it."

Klaus shifted uncomfortable, thinking to deny it before Ines continued, "Kill the girl and it will only become worse."

"The doppelganger…"

"They are linked."

It occurred to him then, as perhaps maybe it should have before. If they were tethered that could only mean that there was one witch that had cast the spell. The original witch that had cursed him: his mother.

His hatred for her now was more real than ever.

"If I kill Lyanna?"

"Another will come. If the doppelganger lives, another will appear in her place. She is here to keep you from her."

"And if the doppelganger dies?"

"The hunter does as well."

He should kill her right then and there. He knew it from the moment he met her that Lyanna was a problem. She would keep him from the one thing he sought more than anything else in life.

What Ines didn't tell Klaus, purposely failing to mention, was that he'd be drawn to the hunters. He'd care for, think of or love them all in different ways. She may have hinted but she didn't delve into the bloody truth of how poisoned that connection would be.

The more he sought the doppelganger, the worse the emptiness inside him would become. The closer, more connected he was with the hunters, the further from the doppelganger he'd be drawn.

Either option left him miserable in the end. Seek the hunter and kill their light or lose his power and what he desired. Slaughter the hunter and the more his madness would grow.

_The poisoned vine breeds the finer wine._

He should kill her, but if he did he'd likely ruin things. Thanks to Kol and his inadequacies they now had another thirty-one days. Four weeks was too long for a person to be missing without questions. He'd have to let her live so he could have his doppelganger when the next full moon arrived.

Klaus would have to find a way to explain things to her. With Elijah's voice chirping outside to Trevor he knew he had to find a source better than himself.

He would use Elijah because as much as it bothered him, sickened him rather- their friendship, Lyanna trusted him. She'd believe the lies Klaus would concoct about wanting to protect Katerina and Lilly. She'd listen to Elijah explain that it wasn't they who needed the moonstone.

That their goal, his new lie: it was all to keep the stone from the wolves. For she would believe his promises of peace.

Lyanna would buy into the fairytales Elijah and his calm demeanor, sweet words, could weave. For of all the things Klaus had, all the lies he'd told, people he'd manipulated, he knew Lyanna would not be one. She was always a little too aware of him and his intentions for either of their own good.

* * *

 

Trevor gave him a simpering smile that Klaus quickly ignored.

"Rose."

Stepping forward, she nodded her head, reaching behind her for the boy. Young, he couldn't have been more than eight or nine. With a dirty face, hands and tattered clothing, he looked up at Klaus.

"Come forward."

Nervously the child looked back to Rose and Trevor whom only prodded him to obey.

"What is your name?"

"Simon, Mi Lord."

Klaus examined the child for a few moments; aware of both Trevor and Rose hovering nervously in the background, desperate for his approval- it was pathetic, really.

"What do you do Simon?"

"I work in the big house, Mi Lord."

"I see… and what exactly do you do there?"

"Whats ever the lady asks," he shuffled back and forth, from foot to foot, the reek of filth coming off of him.

Grabbing his chin, Klaus prompted the boy to make eye contact, locking his gaze as he compelled him, "You have a new job now. You will follow Lady Lockwood, Miss Petrova and when time allows, Lilly Lockwood where ever they go. You will listen to each and every conversation they have. You will take notice of whoever enters and leaves Greyshaw Manor at all times. And you will report back to me each night what you find."

"Yes, Mi Lord," the boy answered, his body slacking a little before Klaus let him go.

"Will there be anything else, Lord Mikaelson?" Rose questioned, stepping forward for the boy.

"Yes, bathe the child. You can smell him coming from a mile away."

Nodding her head, Rose shuffled the boy from the room, Trevor following. If his hunter was to live another thirty one days, one thing was sure, he'd know her every move, every conversation. Her life was no longer her own.

* * *

 

"Lyanna…" a voice called for her in the distance.

"Lyanna…" it grew louder by the second.

It was dark and she was falling, reaching out for something, anything.

"Can you hear me?" it was gentle, concerned.

She searched through her mind, trying to think of who it could be. Her head thrashed from side to side.

"Lyanna…"

He sounded like he cared, as if he was worried and knew she was lost. Maybe he was looking for her?

 _Nathaniel?_ Her mind whispered. It had been so long. She'd thought she'd forgotten what his voice sounded like. Maybe she had wished to forget.

_Do you remember, love? Do you remember what I told you?_

Something grabbed at her, brushing against her face- carefully.

_It's our legacy, Lyanna. It protects us as I protect you._

Only he hadn't protected her. He had lied to her and had left her.

_Lyanna, promise me you'll look after it._

She felt disgust well up inside her. Hatred from betrayal. She screamed out into the darkness, telling him what a coward he was. A snake with his lies, his pretty lies. His lovely lies that she would have believed forever.

"Lyanna!" this time the voice is less loving and much less concerned. Something cold is on her neck and face, pulling her out of darkness.

"You've slept long enough, Love," she knows this voice.

"Klaus…" another warns, the voice from before. It wasn't Nathaniel, but it was familiar, kind.

Her eyes flew open, looking up at Niklaus who was leering over her.

"At last, you've decided to join us."

She should have felt fear, Lyanna should've been crawling out of her skin, instead all she felt was aggravation. The smug look on his face and a throbbing in her arm. She moved to sit up and was hit with a wave of uncontrollable nausea. Without further pause, her head dropped, vomit from shock spilling out of her mouth onto Niklaus's foot.

Had it been anyone else in the world, she may have been mortified, apologetic. He lifted his foot in disgust, vexation spilling out of his mouth as he stepped from the puddle.

"Charming as usual, Lyanna."

Falling back onto the table, looking up at the ceiling, she wiped her mouth and closed her eyes. Her wrist burned so hot with pain that she could hardly focus.

"I told you we should have treated it long before."

"Yes, your comments are noted, Elijah."

There was a scuffling, none of which Lyanna saw; her eyes were closed, her body shaking.

"I'll leave you to it," Niklaus muttered, exiting the room.

As the door closed behind him, Elijah motioned to the chalice that Ines had poured hot water and herbs into.

"Lyanna, I need you to sit up," he tried.

When she didn't answer, he obliged. Sliding his arm beneath her, he wiped beads of sweat from her forehead.

"You are sick, Lyanna. I need you to drink this."

"I know what you are," she whispered in disgust, eyes opening, weakly pushing away the liquid with her good arm.

"Then you know that if I wished to kill you, if Niklaus did, that we would have done so already and we wouldn't use poison," he replied, his breath warm on her face.

"Take the drink, girl," Ines coaxed, holding it out to her again.

Turning her head, from the glass, she questioned, "Katerina, where is she? Where is Lilly? What have you done with them?"

"They are safe, Lyanna. No harm has come to them."

"Tell me where they are. Take me to them," she replied solemnly, still refusing the liquid.

"I will, after you drink. You are in too much pain to go anywhere in the state you're in."

When he lifted it again to her lips and she refused, he leaned in further, "Lyanna, I will not harm you. I would never hurt you. Drink this and I will explain everything and take you to both Katerina and Lilly."

She looked up at the Elijah, unsure and then to Ines who nodded her head in approval. Lyanna had no intention of doing a damn thing for these creatures until they took her to Katerina and Lilly, but if she had to drink whatever it was they were holding out for her to be able to get there, than she would.

Grabbing the stem, she threw back the warm, metallic tasting contents before handing back the cup.

"What was that?" her face, turning with a mixture of disgust.

"Blood, it will help your arm." Immediately Lyanna felt a desire to regurgitate every drop. As she leaned over the table again to revisit the contents, Elijah grabbed her shoulders, "No, keep it down. Wait just a few moments."

It was seconds after the last word left his mouth that she could feel it spreading through her. Warm and buzzing with energy, her jaw grinded together, sounds of pain escaping through her teeth as the bones fragments in her wrist and forearm collected, re-fusing and repaired.

Looking down, the purple mass of black, swollen tissue had healed itself to normal. Flexing, moving her fingers she looked at the change in awe.

"Now that, that is done…." Elijah released her shoulder, standing before her.

"Where is Lilly and Katerina?"

"Safe Lyanna, as I told you. There are some things we need to discuss first."

"We have nothing to discuss," she shot back, sliding from the table, backing away.

Quicker than she could blink, he moved from behind her to block the door.

"Yes we do. It seems that you now know what we are and we know what you are."

It had been years previous, after Nathaniel had turned that she'd heard the word. Lying in bed at night, post coital, a make-up from a particularly hideous argument that he'd started in a fit of rage, he told her everything. Or at least what she thought was everything at the time.

He explained about turning. Whom he'd killed and how it was an accident. He told her of the wolves, their history, the moonstone, the lands, even the pack. And when she'd asked why? Why did he turn? He answered simply that they must, for protection. He uttered the word vampire and followed by explaining to her the origins of the wolves, the curse and how they were hunted by the blood suckers.

"And what is that?"

"A wolf supporter," he answered, as if he hadn't known the entire time. "Do you deny it?"

She laughed, the ridiculousness of it all, "Amusing, a friend of the wolves? You mean the creatures that attacked Lilly and threatened us both in the woods?" her voice turned vicious, "Those who stalk our properties day and night, leering over us as if we were cattle to be fed on?"

"Yes… as a protector of the stone and Lilly."

The stone, how did they know of the stone? Her mind raced with fear.

"It is no secret, Lyanna. The moonstone is well known with our kind and the curse."

She swallowed, waiting for his next move.

"However, that is not why Klaus found you in the woods…" he paused, stepping away from the door.

"That part of the curse is untrue. The moonstone means nothing to vampires. Believe me, if it did we would have taken it from you already."

"Then why are you here?" She questioned, not quite convinced.

"Because it does mean something to the wolves and if you know of the curse and the value of the moonstone then you know just how desperate they are to have it."

"If it means nothing to you, then why are you so interested?"

"The moonstone will not help our kind but it will help theirs. And since, as I assume your former husband was a wolf," he raised his eyebrows in question, "As is Lilly now, I'm guessing that you are aware that her kind and ours do not mix."

"You prey on one another."

"Not precisely. Wolves are very territorial creatures, as I am sure you know. They tend to not like other predators moving into their territory. We happen to prefer peace. If you give the wolves the moonstone, they will be given control over their urges… and henceforth also control over us."

Lyanna looked to Ines whom sat expressionless.

"Why were they in the woods?" she questioned slowly.

"Klaus and Kol? They feared that you would give the moonstone to the wolves. You see, we've been aware of Lilly's condition. We know the wolves are after the stone and in a moment of desperation, people tend to act irrationally."

"So you had no intentions of hurting us?" she didn't believe it, she remembered the look on Niklaus's face.

"I have no intention at all of hurting you. Klaus however, may have been easily been swayed if you had indeed given up the stone."

Lyanna looked at him for a long hard minute, trying to decipher if he was lying to her.

"Niklaus said he had plans for me…."

"He wished to uncover from you where you've put the stone."

Again Lyanna laughed, "As if I would tell you," she mocked.

"That is what we figured," Elijah returned with a smile, "So now it seems we are at a cross roads. We wish to keep the stone from the wolves and you wish to keep the stone from us."

"I wish to keep Lilly and Katerina safe…."

"We have no intention of hurting either of them, especially Katerina."

"And why is that?" she questioned tartly, suspicion oozing from her every pore.

"For the moonstone to work for the wolves, they need a doppelganger, a look alike. We were alerted some time ago, that the stone was located in this area. Katerina was a pleasant surprise."

"And why is that?"

"She's the doppelganger that they need."

"What do you mean need?"

"For the wolves to break their spell, they have to sacrifice the doppelganger- kill her. Obviously, this is not something that we would wish to see."

"So you were using Katerina?" she questioned harshly, worried about the girl's his feelings and her obvious affections. How stupid young girls were in love.

"No, I wouldn't call it that. She holds no benefit to us, however if in the hands of the wrong people she could prove to be detrimental."

"And Kol and Lilly, Katerina and Niklaus," she paused, before continuing, "You and I?"

"All genuine affections, I assure you. We had no intentions of befriending any of you… developing feelings." His face softened as if he might've been telling the truth.

"Why do I not believe you?"

Looking to Ines, he replied, "Because it is a difficult thing to conceive. If you wish to be sure, I can show you." He nodded to the witch who moved, taking Lyanna's hand. Covering it with her own, she placed it against Elijah's cheek, whispering something so quickly that Lyanna couldn't make it out.

Before she had time to pull away or question what it was that they were doing, she could see it.

_Their arrival to Harte Manor, their introduction to the women._

_Herself through Elijah's eyes. Conversations he'd had with Katerina, times he'd seen Kol speak sincerely with Lilly. And feelings, she could feel a burst of feelings and concern come over her. Worry over the wolves and their interest in the girls. Elijah's concern about Katerina and Lyanna, as she laid unconscious and his affection for them all._

Dropping her hand, the images disappeared. Had she only seen them and not felt the emotions behind them, she may have called them lies. But what she felt was sincere and difficult to deny.

Backing into the table, she had laid on minutes before, she tried to think of what to say.

"You can see now, that I have not lied to you. We have come here to protect the stone. We have involved ourselves only out of concern and real interest."

It was too much, too information floated around her brain, mixed with the lingering feelings she'd just experienced from Elijah and all of their connotations: memories from the night before, of disgust, fear, hatred and worry.

"I'll never give you the stone," she answered suddenly.

"You do not have to."

"And I will not tell you where it is, either."

Shaking his head, he responded, "That is not necessary. As long as you do not give it to the wolves, we have no need for it."

"And the girls?"

"We will continue to look out for you, Lilly and Katerina, with or without your permission. No harm will come to any of you," he paused, taking a step forward, "And with your permission, we would like to, still see you. I would like to still see you. I understand that this is new and perhaps you will need time…" he moved a little closer, "But we cannot help what we are Lyanna. Any more than you can help who you are."

She was neither repulsed nor welcoming at that point, only concerned: Lilly, Katerina.

"I would like to see Katerina now, if you please? I would like to take her home."

"Of course," he answered, as the door behind him opened. Stepping through, Niklaus eyed them both before questioning, "So we have come to an agreement?"

"On our end," Elijah answered, carefully, looking pointedly at Lyanna.

"We will protect you, the women and Greyshaw, as long as the stone stays out of the wolves' hands," Niklaus commented, forcing Lyanna to meet his gaze.

There it was: Lyanna's two options. She had to pick her poison: side with the wolves, who would love nothing more than to tear them all to shreds or believe the vampires, who by nature were just as predatory but offered a beacon of hope in their desperate situation.

What choice did she have? Lyanna had to protect Lilly and Katerina, even if it meant getting in bed with the devil himself.

She nodded her head solemnly in response, "Take me to Katerina."

Obliging, Elijah touched her shoulder leading her from the room, when Niklaus caught her arm on the way out, leaning in close, he whispered, "My brother may have an affection for you, but I do not. We will protect you and your family, but if you cross me, go against your word… there is punishment for liars, Lyanna."

As Lyanna shrugged him off, Niklaus looked down at her wrist, completely healed. _Blood_ , while he was gone, Elijah had given her blood- his blood.

As she left, following Elijah down the hall to wake and collect Katerina, he watched them go.

Those were his lies that she had been fed and believed and his promises that she had decided to buy into, not Elijah's. Elijah may have healed her with his blood, soothed the worries of her mind, but it was Niklaus who had offered the olive branch.

He'd have a talk with Elijah about his attachment. He'd have to scold Kol again, berate him to no end for his failures. He would keep a closer eye on his brothers and their wandering affections.

And he'd keep his distance from Lyanna. Somehow, by whatever means, she may have an instinct to protect the doppelganger- his doppelganger, hunt him if need be. But one thing the pretty widow didn't know was that she was well out of her league.

Thirty one days or not, if she crossed him, threatened his plan again- he'd end her. And this time he wouldn't feel guilty.

* * *

 

Katerina looked at her strangely the whole way back to Greyshaw.

"Is Lilly alright?"

"Yes, Kat," she looked out the window her mind racing a mile a minute. How could she be so stupid? What had she involved herself in now?

"Are you alright?" she looked at Kat and wanted to say _no._ Nothing about what had just happened was alright. The look on Niklaus's face played and replayed in her mind.

Should she tell Katerina? What would she say to Lilly? One thing was for sure, she would speak with Elspeth immediately.

When they returned home, it was past the noon hour. Elspeth greeted them both with a look of knowing that screamed Lilly had gotten to her first. She knew.

"Where is Lilly?"

"Resting."

Lilly wasn't resting; she was waiting for Lyanna as was Elspeth. They were waiting to discuss their options. Excusing herself from Katerina, she followed the old woman back through the kitchens alive with the sounds of potatoes being peeled, dough been kneaded for the bread they'd consume that evening, workers smiling and nodding their heads as she passed.

Upon seeing Lilly the girl ran to her, embracing Lyanna tightly, "I thought you were dead."

"Hardly, Love."

"What did they do to you?"

Closing the door behind them, Elspeth rested against it.

"Nothing."

"You know what they are?" Lilly questioned, unsure for a moment.

"Yes."

"We need to go to wolves, immediately. Let us strike a compromise," Elspeth urged.

"No."

She looked to Lilly, "Have you forgotten that they tried to kill you?"

"Lyanna… what they are…." Lilly couldn't say it. None of them could say it.

Again Elspeth assured, "Perhaps if we give them the stone. They will leave us the lands. We could bargain with them, Lyanna."

"They will turn on us as soon as they have it. The pack will not protect us from the Mikaelsons. They would sooner have them slaughter us first and save them the trouble."

"Do not talk like that, Lyanna."

"Is it not true?" she looked to both the women who couldn't contradict her claim.

"No, the stone is what will keep us safe. It is the last thing we have." Her mind went to the lake. In a matter of a week perhaps, even days it would start to freeze over.

It was sink or swim. Choose the lesser of two evils. The Mikaelsons had offered clemency, an alliance. The wolves would sooner see them rot.

"We have made an alliance with the Mikaelsons. It is done." Before the women to think to protest she explained the details of the curse, the information that had been revealed to her through Ines's use of Elijah. She explained the complexity of their situation, leaving out the risk to Katerina.

It would have been a terrible position to put Lilly in. Here she was cursed with something she could not control and Lyanna held the key to it all. She knew where the stone was and with knowledge of Katerina as the doppelganger, it would be too much to ask Lilly not to be tempted.

When she was done, Elspeth stood, arms folded, a pained look of worry on her face. Lilly sat silent, confused. They should hate the Mikaelsons and be doing everything in their power to distance themselves. But they had saved them last night from the wolves. They had left Lyanna unharmed and somewhat swayed by the vision she saw through Elijah. And Kol, he'd found her last night. He'd saved her from being tracked down by the remaining pack members and any others that lingered in the woods. He spared her death.

Was that the act of an enemy?

"I do not think they will harm us," Lilly responded at last. "Kol could have let the pack have me last night, or killed me this morning and he did not."

"Lyanna…." years living amongst the wolves had hard wired Elspeth and her sympathies, along with her inherent distrust of vampires.

"We will do what we must to survive Elspeth."

"And Katerina?"

The women knew to tell the girl would be cruel and possibly too much to handle. "No," and they all agreed. The morning could have been settled with that had there not been a knock at the door.

"My Lady, Father Hall is here to see you."

Rarely did the priest from their abbey ever visit the Lockwood Lands. When Lord Harte was alive, Father Hall frequently made visits to the house on the hill, even once or twice coming to Greyshaw before Nathaniel's passing but never after.

When he was shown in, after Lilly and Elspeth excused themselves Lyanna could tell that it would't be a social visit.

"I think we both know why I am here Lady Lockwood."

When she didn't answer, he finally replied for her, "I know Lyanna. I have known about the wolves for quite some time. And if I did not, it would be impossible not to now. Fifteen souls were released to our dear father last night…."

Quickly recovering from the revelation that their secret was not so secret, she began to wonder what his intentions really were. If he was looking for her to offer words of apology he was clearly dipping into the sacramental wine.

"Fifteen souls that tried to kill both Lady Lilly and myself," she corrected not so politely.

The older man sighed; hand running over his face as if he were unsure what he'd say next. Finally he began, "Things used to be not so complicated Lyanna." It was strange and almost inappropriately too familiar for him to address her by her given name. She didn't even know his, to do the same.

"The pack, used to not be at war with one another. Before many things happened…." he reached into his garb removing a handkerchief, dabbing away the sweat that was collecting on his brow. It was a nervous sweat, perspiration of guilt.

"I need to tell you something Lyanna, something that perhaps I should have said long ago."

As he prepared to delve into a speech that had kept him awake, many nights contemplating, neither noticed the young boy hovering in the periphery. Small for even his age, Simon could fit into any nook or cranny, making himself invisible in any background.

"Many years ago, Lyanna, I knew a woman, her name was Claire," his voice started to crack. He nodded at the canter of wine, resting on the adjacent table, "If you please…"

Nodding her head she reached for the goblets, pouring the wine as he continued, "She was your mother, Lyanna."

The priest looked nervously to the widow Lockwood whom didn't respond. Her body stiff, face expressionless, he wasn't even sure she was breathing.

"Lyanna… Lyanna?" she didn't answer, as he continued to call out, her mind was a million miles away. Lost in a sea of thoughts, screaming at deafening pitch as they raced through her mind.

"Lyanna, the wine!" his hand clamped down on her shoulder hard, bringing her back. The wine had overfilled the goblet, spilling over the silver tray, dribbling down the dark oak, blotting into rug.

She dropped the canter with a clatter, aware of the mess she'd made. Hands shaking, she attempted to clean the mess but it was no use. Wine continued to drip onto the floor, forever staining the rug as the priest took the goblet, draining its contents, continuing, "She was sent to my parish many years ago, from Paris. She was so young then."

"Excuse me?" she stammered.

Of all the words that could have come from his mouth, these were perhaps the cruellest. She blinked, not quite sure that she heard him correctly. The shock, made it impossible almost for her to absorb.

 _Claire,_ Lyanna thought, she felt her heart stop. She had a mother. Her name was Claire.

"Your mother, I knew her well Lyanna. She was sent to me, many years ago from a special order of Sisters. These women were different, Lyanna. They were skilled in other," he paused, "Talents."

She was giving him a blank stare, as if her eyes had glazed over. Giving her a few moments of silence, he sipped his wine before he continued, "I also knew your father, Lyanna." This was where his guilt revolved: years having had his suspicions of Lyanna. Not until she was close to five and ten was he almost sure that the girl was Claire's. She looked the picture of her.

She breathed, the air rushing out of her mouth, like she'd been caught under water, her eyes focused on some distant object.

"Lyanna… Lyanna…." He called her back, "Are you still with me?"

"Yes father," she answered, her voice distant, as she slowly came out of her stupor.

"Where is she?" the words tumbled out of Lyanna's mouth. The only family she knew she had was quite distant and had no notion of who she was, save Katerina showing up on her doorstep, many relatives removed; hardly even family, but needing a home.

She had a mother, she could still be alive.

"Gone, Lyanna, many years past."

She was holding her breath again, trying to force it out but it caught in the back of her throat, she feared if she tried to breathe, she'd vomit or cry out. So she held it still.

"I wish I could tell you more about your mother. But I did not know much. When she was sent to me, she- they were, sparing in details. Only specific about where she should be placed."

Her thoughts jumped immediately to her 'father'.

"Where is he? Does he know of me?" The words rushed out of her mouth in haste.

Father Hall's face went grim. He handed her his glass to refill, as a distractor from her intense stare. He felt as if the Father himself were looking down on him, judging him for the mistakes he'd made.

"Yes… before his death, Lord Harte knew who you were."

Slipping through her fingers, the glass bounced against the stone floors echoing throughout the room. Scrambling to pick it up, she clenched her hands to keep them from shaking as Father Hall continued, "When you were still a girl, close to six and ten, I went to him. I explained what I knew…."

He paused before continuing, "He had no children Lyanna. Lady Harte passed years before."

Millions of questions ran through her mild, muddled with intense feelings of loss, "How did…" she stopped, afraid to ask. It seemed a crude question for a priest, to inquire how her parents had met and carried on a torrid affair.

Seemingly understanding where she was heading, he picked up, "When his son passed, he was greatly changed. He would frequent the abbey, daily coming to confession, looking for guidance…." he stopped, not needing to continue. The picture was clear enough.

"I had intended when I knew who you were to offer you protection in the church."

"Protection? From what?"

"From whatever it was that your mother was running from. That the church was trying to keep at bay."

His answers cryptic, however a man could not answer a question if he did not know himself.

"By that time I realized whom you were, you would soon wed. I thought that with the Lockwoods, the wolves- that she… she would have approved. And that it was best to leave you."

"Approved?" Lyanna stammered, accusingly, feeling as though she may cry at any moment. She had a father and she had a mother. They were so close the entire time and he waited until now to tell her.

"I would have considered Claire a close acquaintance. I was aware that there may have been an affection between the two of them, but I never…..When her condition became too obvious to hide, the church threatened to cast her out for her sin."

The look on Lyanna's face said it all, horror and disgust, eyebrows furrowing together in judgement: thoughts of a woman with a child and no means, left to wander the countryside, or worse the streets of London.

"It was not my decision, Lyanna. I have superiors as well…. They were sure that her sin would be a poison spreading, infecting those around her. When Claire knew that she had to leave, she worried of her future. She worried for you."

"So she left me, in the moors?" she responded, cynically.

"I think she meant to take you to him, bring you to Edmure, to stay. For him to keep you safe… but things happen."

"Do they now?" She couldn't pin point what it was, but everything in her wished to scream. Perhaps it was better to never have known that about her mother. She'd rather have spent her whole life making up her own story, promising herself that she was loved; that whoever left her did so because they had no other choice.

Each word, he said, hammered cracks into every lie she'd ever told herself and she resented it.

"I convinced my superiors to keep her for a time, until you were you born. That it would be unchristian to cast a woman out in her time of need…. Afterwards, I sought to find a way to allow her to stay but they were adamant."

He looked to her now, easily thirty years her senior, as if he were pleading his case, trying to justify his every action.

"The last time I saw your mother, she left with you, traveling I assume to your father. She had nowhere else to go, Lyanna. She couldn't take you with her and she couldn't stay. She had to go over the moors, full moon or not."

A hideous image flashed through her mind, causing her nose to wrinkle, face to grimace, the thought of her mother- a woman she never knew, ripped limb from limb, gurgling on her own blood, attacked by the things she saw last night.

"Years later, before his passing, Lord Lockwood, he…," the priest was visibly trying to force himself to continue, uncomfortable, making Lyanna fear what new terrible revelation he had. "He came to confession. He was overcome by guilt, Lyanna."

The edges in her peripheral vision started to go a little hazy, the words coming from his mouth and none of them quite making sense.

"He could not control himself. He said he couldn't quite remember but he was sure…. When he woke the next day…."

She held up her hand, silencing his yammering, she'd heard enough and didn't want to hear anymore. The image was clear enough.

Every pretty fantasy she'd concocted about her mother and father, told herself when she laid awake at night, things she'd reassured herself of, whenever Nathaniel used to mention children- their future children. They were all gone. Lovely lies, strangled by ugly truths.

She'd been abandoned in the moors, by a mother that had been eaten alive by the man that offered her shelter for almost the entirety of her life, out of guilt.

He'd acted like a father to her. Treated her as if she were the same as Lilly and Nathaniel, all along knowing what he'd done. The thought of it made her sick.

"He felt remorse, child. I promise you that."

His promises were little comfort as the walls seemed to be closing in on Lyanna, making it difficult to breathe again. Crumbling, every truth she thought she could still try to hold on to, cling to, was turning to dust in her hands.

Rushing to finish his story before he lost his nerve or she exploded with grief, the priest continued, "When I told Lord Harte who you were…." It was subtle, the moisture that had started to gather at the corner of her eyes. But she held back, she wouldn't do it. It had been close to year since she had last cried; that final time, she swore to herself that she would not do so again. Not over a Lockwood man and not out of self pity.

"He wanted you, Lyanna," the priest comforted. "You were all that was left. He intended to tell you, to legitimize you…."

"Why didn't he?" she cried out. Why did he not ever tell her? Why did the man who lived on the hill, attended dinners in their home, associated with her husband never tell her whom he was?

"I think Nathaniel thought it would be too much for you."

 _Too much_?! She wanted to scream. Nathaniel and his opinions on what was good for her and what was not. There had been moments before and there would be a few after this that she'd again question if he ever even cared for her at all? He left her with a mountain of lies and a sea of troubles and he thought that _this_ truth was too much?

"When your late husband died, Lord Edmure was all that more determined to tell you the truth. To be honest, no matter the with all the things that were changing and the pack had planned to do…. But he passed before he could."

Lord Edmure, her father, had been brutally killed. It was not even days past Nathaniel. She hardly remembered it, so encompassed in her grief.

"Edmure was part of the pack, Lyanna. He knew what they planned to do, that they would kill Nathaniel for what he'd done. He knew there were consequences amongst men for such actions…. They killed him because they knew what he intended to do." A priest, a man of God, was condoning murder, violence and an unjust end?

Before Lyanna could balk, he continued, "They wanted that stone long before, what had happened Lyanna. It was only a matter of time. Nathaniel's sins were only an excuse. Lord Harte, Edmure, refused to support them in their quest to get it. He would not support Arthur in his challenge for pack leader. And if he legitimized you, their claims to your land, Greyshaw, all of it would be denied. You'd be a member of the pack Lyanna; under Edmure you'd be safe. They do not attack one another's families. If you were a Lady-" he paused feeling terrible for even mentioning it, "If you were Lord Harte's heir, if Harte Manor was yours. The kind of power you would have had in this area…. You'd be unchallengeable."

"And you condone this, them killing one another? Slaughtering each other, lying, over land and that stupid stone?" her voice shook with the beginnings of rage.

"No, but it is not I to judge either. The King of England will not do anything about these problems because he is oblivious. The Holy Church refuses to acknowledge the existence of these outlying issues."

The way he said 'issues' screamed: Unnatural, unclean.

Setting down his glass, he leaned forward to take her hand in comfort but she denied him, "Give them the stone, Lyanna. What I saw this morning will not be the last. They will continue to come for you and this property. It is only a matter of time. There is nothing that I or anyone else can do. Perhaps with the stone…."

He was right. It was too late now. Even if she could make an appeal to the king, with Father Hall to corroborate her claim, it would never work. To try to seize those lands now, she'd have to go against the Mikaelsons, Niklaus- his words still ringing in her ears, _if you cross me, there is punishment for liars…._

Father Hall was too late. He'd given her a solution that came at the price of death for her, Katerina and Lilly if she tried.

"No," she replied firmly, "They will never have that stone."

The priest sighed, knowing all along that would be her response. In a rush to get out his argument, he started, "Lyanna, you could give them the stone. Lady Lockwood still has family, she could leave this place. Katerina…. She could go back," this time he took her hand by force, "Come into the church. You are widowed. I will speak with my diocese. We can keep you safe. Your mother…."

"Is dead," the words fell out of her mouth like a curse.

"You do not have to be as well."

Rising, she walked around the room, finally answering, "I will not leave Lilly or Katerina."

"You would not be leaving them chil-"

She silenced them with her raised hand, "I said, I will not be leaving, Lilly or Katerina. Greyshaw is mine. These lands are mine."

"Lyanna do not be a fool. Do not let pride, guide your decision."

She looked around the large sitting room. The home that had saved her as a child would kill her in the end, "If they wish to take this land from me or that stone, they will have to pry them from my cold, dead, hands."

The priest, sat in silence for a moment before answering, "I hope that will not be the case." Rising as well, he touched her shoulder, "My sincerest apologies, I should have told you sooner."

Lyanna couldn't answer. She feared what she'd say.

Before leaving the last thing Father Hall said to Lyanna was, "I loved your mother like a dear friend, a sister. If you should ever need anything, Lady Lockwood… you know where to find me."

When the door clicked behind him, Lyanna stared around the empty room for a few brief moments. When she was sure she was alone, her hand clutched her hip to keep her from throwing the nearest object in rage, the other covering her face, as she cried. Shoulders heaving, gasping for air, she wept like she hadn't in over a year.

She'd had a mother, her name was Claire. She loved her and died, in a futile effort to keep Lyanna safe. She had a father, who knew whom she was but never said a word because she had a husband who did nothing but lie to her, all in the name of protection, what he deemed as caring.

She loved and hated this place: surrounded by lies and secrets, now ones that she was perpetuating to stay safe. Greyshaw both home and hell, was the only place she'd know.

Looking out over the moors, to Harte Manor, she knew what was done, was done. This was the family she had now and nothing could change that. A thousand tears couldn't reverse time or erase facts. She wished she never knew- could have instead held on to her simple childhood fantasies, ones that could have kept her warm with illusion forever. Now, she was left with nothing but the truth, which was always bitter, cold and unforgiving.

Lyanna never spoke a word of what Father Hall said to her to anyone. Lilly wouldn't understand, Katerina wouldn't either. And Elspeth… to tell Elspeth of her mother and father, to cry to a woman that raised her like her own about a family she had lost would be cruel and dismissive.

She thought the entire revelation, could stay what it already was, a dirty secret and no one would have to know. No one except for Simon, who sat aghast, wedged between a large oak table and the wall. The boy would have many tales to tell Lord Mikaelson when he went to him this evening.

For days Lyanna would think of nothing else other than Father Hall's warnings. Ones she was already well aware of. They'd keep coming for her, until they killed her. The Mikaelsons offered protection, but a woman could never count on a man's promises- living or not.

She needed that stone. It was the last thing she had that could possibly separate her, Lilly and Katerina from death. And if she waited too long, she'd not be able to get to it for months, not until the spring.

* * *

 

Her feet slid on the thin ice, parts of it cracking beneath her. She should have chanced it before, been braver. The lake would be frozen over completely in less than a week. It was now or never. Had she waited even longer, she'd be completely out of bargaining chips.

She hadn't told Elspeth what she'd planned, afraid of what the older woman would have to say.

It was early morning, only an hour past dawn. Crunching through the light snow that dusted the grounds, she had stopped every so often, paranoid, she guessed. Always a little too alert these days. She'd wake at night in sweat, Lilly and Katarina's screams filling her ears, pleading for help. Elspeth lying dead on the floor, her throat ripped out to silence her warnings. All of it only in her mind, but so close to what could someday be real.

Nothing, not even a bird, stirred in the forest as she slid along its thin surface. Removing her shoes, taking off her coat, her skin prickled in the cold morning air, her breath fogging before her face in a white cloud. The ice thinned half way out, dropping off towards the middle of the lake. Stepping onto the newly formed sheet of ice, she knew that would be where she'd enter. Looking around one last time, her clumsy fingers worked at the ties at the back of her dress, unlacing each one, pushing the material down her hips until she was in her shift. Any excess weight and she'd never make it to the bottom.

Without another thought, she slipped under the surface. Her breath caught in her throat, choking from the frigidness. It felt like a thousand needles piercing into every inch of her skin. Everything in her screamed to get out: her teeth clattering. But she couldn't. She had to do it. Taking one last gasp of air, her head slipped below the surface, legs kicking as she dove downwards.

What if she couldn't find it? What if it wasn't there? All kinds of thoughts raced through her mind, her eyes burning from the sediment and chilly water, fish flitting away while she made her quick path to the bottom.

Reaching it, fingers combed through the sand, etched along the bedrock, looking for a burlap sack. It wasn't there. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, her nerve endings firing so rapidly, feelings of pain where taking over her mind.

Her first attempt failed. She drifted to the surface gasping for air, closing her eyes from the shock of light and chill, her hair froze immediately as it broke from the water's surface. Her lips turned grey, eyes threatening to freeze shut if she closed them for too long, Lyanna prayed to anyone that would listen that her next attempt would be successful.

What if she couldn't find it? What if it was lost?

 _Keep trying,_ she told herself, plunging back to the bottom, limbs growing stiff and less productive with each descent, locking from the biting conditions.

Lyanna's paranoid instincts were superb. She was indeed being watched by more than one person. But just as- a predator, watched her, that individual was also being tracked. Partially covered by the trees Elijah could see the wolf waiting for her on the shore, yet to be discovered.

The more she struggled, the more relaxed the wolf became. Elijah need not wait to know what the man had planned. How careless Lyanna could be. When Simon, came running onto the grounds, through the snow, pounding on the cook's doors, Elijah was sure something horrible was soon to happen.

As fortune had it, the boy found him before Klaus, telling tales of Lady Lockwood leaving the Manor in the early hours of morning- going toward the woods.

Elijah grappled for minutes on whether if he should tell his brother. Whatever Lyanna had intended on doing couldn't have been good. Klaus would likely react impulsively. He'd lash out against her, no matter how minor the slight, as lately he'd become even more withdrawn, suspicious and sensitive to any matter concerning Lyanna.

As soon as he saw the lake, her clothes, Elijah knew what she'd come for and was immediately relieved that it was he that found her and not Klaus. Even more relieved was he that he'd made it there before she emerged from the water and the wolf got to her.

Had the water not been poisoned with Vervain he would have helped her. It was painful to watch her struggling against the water, gasping for air each time she came up empty handed.

"Lyanna…" he sighed. Hadn't Elijah hinted, requested, and discouraged her from entering into the woods alone? And still she didn't listen. Like a fool, she came unaccompanied and vulnerable, asking to be attacked.

When she disappeared from the surface once more, Elijah made enough noise to make his presence be known to the wolf, who turned to find him. Both men exchanged a look, knowing what the other had come for. Neither was willing to leave their claim. Without need for encouragement the thick man headed in Elijah's direction, looking for a fight, a smirk spreading across his face.

It was one of the more engaging kills Elijah had made in some time. For moments the wolf struggled under his grasp, clawing at him, snapping, hoping to make contact with skin. All the while Lyanna was oblivious, continuing her search.

The sound of his neck snapping echoed throughout the quiet forest, the man's body dropping lifelessly to the ground. Righting his appearance, looking back to the ice's edge, it had been close to two minutes since the last time Elijah heard her gasping for air. That was too long, something was wrong. As the seconds crept by he became nervous, until he could take it no longer. Stepping out onto the lake, he was not even a yard into the frozen water when he heard it, the cracking; feeling the shift under his feet.

When she'd walked upon it the first time her weight had begun the fracture, his was the final straw. Breaking off from the larger sheet, the newly formed island moved him forward, away from the shore. Water slidding onto the surface but wasn't the reason Elijah started running. The sheet had drifted forward, moving over the place where Lyanna would come up to break for air.

Covering that area, she'd suffocate- drown.

With moonstone in hand Lyanna sluggishly pushed off the lake's bottom, her lungs burning for air, limbs so stiff they were useless, her fingers had formed a claw around the sack.

"Only so much further," she told herself. But the closer she got to the surface, the sooner she found out how wrong she was. Panic set in as she could no longer see the light, a dark shadow covering where she knew before to be open space.

Her hand pressed up against it, pushing hard. It wouldn't budge.

She looked side to side, heart racing. Darkness as far as her eyes could see. Panicked she screamed out into the icy waters- as if someone would hear her. Her fist pounded against the sheet, hoping to break through.

Sliding above the surface, Elijah could hear it, the faint knocking sound.

He dropped to his knees, following the noise, scrambling to find its source. Looking down through the thick sheet, he could see the outline of her shadow below and hear the faint knocking.

She was drowning.

It had been years since Elijah had felt that kind of fear, mayhaps never before.

"Lyanna!" he yelled out into the forest. The knocking started to grow faint. He looked around, there was ice for yards.

In less than a second his fist was pounding against the ice. Hard and fast, it cracked and splintered around his point of contact, like fragments of a web. Blood spilled over the shards of chipped pieces as he continued to beat away.

When the ice finally broke, water splashed up, burning his healing cuts.

"Lyanna!"

The knocking had stopped. Without thought, he shrugged off his cloak and jacket, diving into the water.

Everything burned, like being set on fire. In fact, that may have been less painful. Opening his eyes for moments his pupils sizzled as he swam to where he'd heard her last knocking and found her pressed against the ice, body limp. Grabbing her around the waist he dragged her to the opening.

Face hitting air, skin lacerated from burns, he groped at her hips pushing her up and onto the surface, sliding her over. Crawling out, steam poured off his skin- a strange picture in a land of frost.

"Lyanna!" He shook her, turning her on her side, landing a sharp slap between her shoulder blades.

"Lyanna!" She coughed, spitting up water, coughed again, eyes still shut.

"Everything will be fine."

As he lifted her off the ice, he noticed it. Looped around her finger, was the burlap sack, in it he assumed the stone.

She was partially conscious, curling into him, "Elijah," she murmured, eyes opening.

"Yes and you are lucky I found you." Gliding over the ice, he was careful where he stepped. All they needed was to fall through once again.

His skin had started to heal itself from the burns, Lyanna shook, frost forming in her hair on her skin, stiffening the material of her cotton shift as moisture froze from the air.

"Lyanna, what were you thinking? You could have drowned."

She coughed, shaking hard, knowing even in her dazed state that she was doomed now. She'd been caught. How she knew, she couldn't explain.

"Eli-j-ah…" she chattered, "I had to, Elijah. Do not tell him, please. If you c-care for us, me-"

"I do not know what you are speaking of," Elijah lied. If he cared for Lyanna, if he cared for Katerina, he'd not breathe a word of this to Klaus. He'd not chance his brother flying into a rage, deciding to kill Lyanna and hold Katerina as a hostage.

What had he gotten himself into? Family: Klaus, Rebekah, Kol and even Finn, they had a purpose. He had a purpose: loyalty. He had promised Klaus. He knew what was at stake.

But was it all just a game to them? Was the whole thing a lie? When he looked at Katerina and she smiled at him, and every moment he'd shared with Lyanna in warm understanding- it wasn't an illusion. It was real, and difficult to forget.

* * *

 

When Simon had come to him, late in the evening, telling tales of the events of the house, the coming and goings of servants, conversations between the ladies, Klaus had almost missed the most important revelation the boy had, so distracted by mundane details.

His little interloper mentioned Lyanna being carried to the house, in the early hours of morning by Elijah- how his brother had fished her out of the lake just in time. He spoke as if, he assumed Klaus was already privy to the information. But his brother had failed to mention both Simon's early morning visit and Lyanna's trip to the lake where she had apparently fallen through the ice, only to be saved by his dear brother.

What to Simon seemed nothing but an interesting tale, to Klaus reeked of deception, both Elijah's and Lyanna's. He knew why she'd gone to the lake and furthermore why Elijah had kept it secret, all day not a word from him about the ordeal.

He was doing it for them, her in particular. Protecting her, as he knew what Klaus's immediate reaction would be. Discipline the unruly by rectify the act of defiance. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, the stone was insignificant. But the forethought behind it was not.

She given her word that in exchange for protection she'd not give her fake stone to the wolves. Risking her life and fishing it out, spoke volumes about her loyalty and notions of alliances. Now was not the time for her to be questioning the promise she'd made to them.

This was days after the boy had revealed another troubling detail in Lyanna's ever unfolding story. Each room he passed into in the great manor now had different meaning. They had not only compelled this home and lands from King Henry- stealing it out from under some other desiring Noble, but had also taken it from the widow Lockwood.

Irony, his existence never seemed to be short of irony. Here they sat on the solution to all of Lyanna Lockwood's problems. If she claimed this land, was named Lord Harte's only child, the wolves would surely back down, cower from her increasing power or at the very least, reconsider whom they were dealing with. From the boy's full description of their conversation, it seemed that the priest was desperate for her to give herself up.

And even more, he was full of troubling secrets. The old distinguished Lord, seducing a lady of the church. It made Klaus smile at the thought. Perhaps he would have enjoyed Lord Harte's company- wolf and all. Humans and the moronic little webs they weaved.

In all truth, it was a sad little story that played out like some Italian tragedy his brother would have adored: all of it with Lyanna standing in the middle, drowning in others' mistakes.

They had her throttled in more ways than one. To cross them, she'd have to be a damn fool and still with every turn, she acted in defiance. Fishing out the stone, what would be next? Would she be naïve enough to attempt to circumvent them? Go to the wolves or worse yet, attempt with her new found information to appeal to the Parliament?

The only thing more perplexing then Lyanna's complete lack of self preservation was his brother's disconcerting silence, over recent events- deafening in its betrayal.

When he dismissed the boy, Klaus mulled over his new conundrum, one of many as of late. With the boy's revelation about Lyanna's heritage, both the problematic genesis of her newfound possible advantage and the unearthing of another piece in her mystery, he fingered the old letter.

He hadn't read it for close to a hundred years, only kept it tucked away with the few other private belongings of his. But now, he read and reread its contents, looking almost for it to map out all of his unanswered questions from Ines.

When he'd taken it from Anne's home, that putrid day in Serres, he never considered its importance. It read like a hasty plea: join the church, let the Lord save your soul and abandon your child.

It had been signed and dated, by a Father Nicomedes, sealed with the sign of the church. Perhaps it was coincidence, Lyanna's mother coming from church and this letter. But the boy's retelling of the priest's story suggested something else.

A string of his hunters, he'd obviously missed. But what would it matter anyhow? Lyanna would die with Katerina and it would be done. He refolded the worn letter, placing it again in his drawer.

It would be another day that Klaus would wait before Elijah finally came to him, casually informing him of the situation, as if every word from his mouth wasn't a blatant confession of intended betrayal.

"The boy came so suddenly, I had to act."

Listening, trying to quell his tongue from bursting forth with ridicule and accusations, Klaus continued to dismissively recorrect the lines of the figure in his drawing, "Did she retrieve it?"

"Yes and almost died in the process…."

"Almost…." Klaus corrected, sharply, not bothering to even look up from his work.

"Yes and where would we be then? What do you think would happen to Katerina if Lyanna passed? I thwarted a disaster."

"And managed to keep it secret for close to two days. Tell me Elijah, if you acted, as you say, in the best interest of the plan, then why be so furtive?" Klaus's eyes cut into his brother, looking for a slight falter in his features, the tell tale sign of deceit.

"I acted only in your best interest Klaus and am I not coming to you now?"

"Only because you know I knew. And do tell, brother, I'd love to hear your laminations on how your attempts at duplicity were acting benevolently in my interest."

"You would have acted capriciously, Klaus, compromising our already mercurial arrangement with Lady Lockwood."

"Capricious? More accordingly, is what I assume you meant. Defiance will not be tolerated with that woman, I do not care what fictitious, temporary attachment you have formed with her. She will follow our agreement to the letter or she will pay duly."

He'd yet to appraise Elijah of Lyanna's true origins. The story of Lord Harte and the new inconvenience his idolatry had bought them. Soon enough, he'd let his brother in on his little revelation, but only what was necessary for Elijah to know.

He had yet to divulge the complete findings of Ines. He'd likely never tell him the full story of the hunters and their connection to the doppelganger as soon enough there would be no need to do so.

"Is that necessary Klaus? Is the matter not solved? The stone means nothing."

"It is not the stone, brother; it is the impudence behind her intentions. If she will attempt this, what else, I ask you?"

"Klaus, can you blame the woman?"

No in truth he couldn't. Rash as it was, most any practical person would have considered it. Considering was not the problem, it was the undertaking of such a breach of verbal contract that was unforgivable.

"Lie to me again, Elijah and I shall stake you as I did Finn."

A dark expression passed over Elijah. Threats, they had never succumbed to tactics like this between them before, not since her. Not since Tatia. It was portentous in its illustration of the atrophying lines of trust between them.

"Klaus, I have never been anything but loyal to you. I would never risk our safety for one little human woman. However, I think if you were to give it some thought you would see-"

"I would see that you are clearly blinded in this situation. I will deal with Lyanna Lockwood as I see fit. And I suggest that you keep your distance from her as you seemingly cannot separate your weak humanistic inclinations from prudent action!" Klaus snapped.

"My association with the widow Lockwood has done nothing but aid our efforts. If you had foresight, dear brother, you would see that your alienation of her has done nothing but impugn our every advancement."

"She is nothing but an obnoxious casualty, Elijah. It seems that you are the only one that cannot see that. You will stay away from Lyanna Lockwood, for so help me, if you cross me one more time, attempt to act without my knowledge or aide that widow again, I will desiccatee you myself after I rip her limb from limb."

Looking back, Klaus would possibly see this as, not the beginning, but most certainly a harbinger of the division that was already forming between himself and Elijah: one that would officially be catalyzed over Katerina's disappearance but originating, taking deep root, with Lyanna.

* * *

 

They hadn't spoken since that day in the f _orest. They'd seen one another a few times in passing, on the road, but no real communication beyond that._

Five hundred years he'd walked the earth and this morning may have been the first time that Kol had ever set foot inside an abbey, mosque or temple.

It might likely be another five hundred before he'd do it again. Both of his brothers had given him a few sideways glances as they readied themselves to leave for the abbey early Sabbath morning.

They went to spy on the ladies of Greyshaw. Could not Kol use the same excuse?

They badgered him the entire coach ride there, until finally he'd insisted that he'd run out of delectable locals to feed from. The abbey was nothing more but a simple gander at the food market.

After two hours, he wasn't so sure he'd lied. Ready to rip out the throat of the first person whom crossed his path after too much prolonged boredom, the entire ordeal almost seemed worth it as soon as he saw Lilly, set slightly apart from Elijah and Katerina.

"Did you enjoy the lesson?"

Lilly looked at him warily. She was well aware that they had come, sitting rows behind them. She could smell Kol long before she saw him.

"Perhaps more than you, I was not aware you were allowed to enter sacred ground."

"I made a deal with your devil."

She didn't seem impressed in the slightest.

Taking her by the arm as people passed by them, he directed her away from the crowd, to the side of the stone building, into the small graveyard.

"Come now, just because we now know who each other are doesn't mean that we can't still enjoy one another."

"No in fact I would say that, that is exactly what it means," she tugged her elbow away.

"Lilly," he didn't know why he cared. So what if Lilly Lockwood wanted nothing to do with him? There was a whole village of women, in fact an entire household of serving girls for him to play with.

The only problem, as he'd discovered over the past week of their silent standoff, was that none of them were quite Lilly.

"What?"

Confronted with this annoying little issue, he pressed forward, choking a little on his pride, "I have not changed. I'm still the same person I was before."

"Still a lecher?"

He smirked, "Only for the right tease."

Everything about Kol screamed the blatant warning of NO. It would be just Lilly's luck that she'd finally garner a man's attention and he happened to be one of the most despicable creatures that walked the face of the planet.

"How would I know that I can trust you? You've proven yourself to be anything but trustworthy."

Hand on chest, as if he were wounded, Kol feigned, "Me, untrustworthy? What would lead you to that conclusion?"

"You lied about who you were."

"You did as well," he had her there.

"You've been invading my dreams. A gentleman would never do such a thing."

"Funny, I do not remember you complaining at the time."

She blushed, regrettably, "That is not the point! That is the behavior of someone who is not trustworthy and undeserving of my time."

Undeserving of her time? Internally Kol laughed, this is why he liked her. A baby werewolf, not yet even eight and ten, still a virgin, considered herself to be too important, no rather, too refined for his company. Did she not know who he was? What Kol had seen and done over the years? There were parts of the world that revered him as a god.

Impertinent she was but part of Kol, the underlying insecure part that he hid (at least he thought he hid) so well behind his quick wit, unpredictable temper and menacing behavior, worried that she might be right.

"I promise to no longer enter your dreams."

"You are too late, I started taking Vervain again, and therefore that is not a sincere concession."

He sighed rolling his eyes, "Fine Lilly, how am I to prove myself trustworthy if you do not give me an opportunity?"

"An opportunity?"

"Yes, I cannot refute your accusation if not given the proper occasion."

"And what would this opportunity consist of?"

"Perhaps if you were to get to know me," he began and then quickly regretted it. This would be the type of trick he would attempt with any other supernatural creature. Blaming his relative inexperience in these types of situations, with female werewolves, he didn't account for Lilly's impeccable ability to differentiate between fact and fiction, until it was too late and the suggestion was already made.

The things he'd do for a little stimulating entertainment.

"You're willing now to tell me things of yourself?" she'd tried this with him previous, before their encounter in the woods. Kol had been quite tight lipped about himself, his life and any personal details.

Kol's mouth tightened, searching his mind for any of the usual tactics he'd use in a situation like this, to defer from the intended path of conversation.

"I accept. But only if you are honest," she stopped, to make her point, "And I will be able to tell if you are not."

"What are we, children now? Is this a game?" he snapped.

Put out by his insulting comment, she replied, "I am not the one who sought your company. If you wish me to leave, I would be more than happy..."

Feminine manipulation, it reminded him of Rebekah.

"Ask away," he answered, waving his hand, looking back to the carriage. There was no sight of Klaus, Elijah and Katerina seemed to be deep in conversation.

"Where are your mother and father?"

"Dead," he answered emotionless. Although Mikael still lived, as far as he was concerned the father he'd known as a human was dead. Whatever feelings he'd had about Esther and Mikael, his parents, not the co-conspirators, had long since dissipated over the past 500 years.

"And your sister, Rebekah? Where is she?" How did she know of Rebekah? Immediately Kol's mind jumped to the defensive but then relaxed when he realized she wasn't probing him for information to use maliciously- he hoped.

"Staying with family elsewhere."

"You are lying," Lilly corrected him. She was right, he was. Kol knew where Rebekah was and he'd be damned if he'd tell anyone, even as harmless as it may seem.

"Next question."

"No, I want that one answered."

"Safe, that is all that is pertinent for you to know."

"Why is she not here with your brothers now?"

She was like a dog on a bone; Kol knew this entire thing was a terrible idea. He should have gone back to his serving girls.

He hesitated, before she warned, "And do not lie."

"A few reasons, one being that she and Klaus have had their differences over the years."

"Differences? It seems pretty petty to me to separate yourself from your family over a disagreement."

"Yes, well over the course of a few centuries, it was more than one disagreement and a few that were a little more than an exchanging of words," as Lilly opened her mouth to ask another question, he stopped her, hand raised, "And that is all I'm willing to say on that matter."

"How many centuries is a few?"

Clever, no his real age would be a little too revealing, however perhaps it would teach her to mind her elders.

"More than two," he answered somewhat cryptically.

Kol watched the revelation of his age pass over Lilly's face. Skipping quickly to her next questioned, she stammered, "What have you done with all that time?"

"Traveled mostly: Rome, Spain, the Russian Empire. I've seen the Mongols, trekked far enough south that I've seen men as dark as night and spirits you will never read about in books."

If Lilly was impressed it didn't show, as she failed to linger on his exploits and instead with a wrinkled brow continued, "And where did you call home?"

"Where ever I wished. The south of France, the Swedish states..."

"No," she interjected, "Where was home?"

Kol tried to smirk, come up with something tart to say, but the longer she stared at him waiting for her answer, the more difficult the witty replies were to come by. His hand ran through his hair as he looked at the ground.

"Come now, you can't find more interesting questions than these? Do you not wish to know what princes and Kings I've conversed with? What beasts I've fought? Where I've-"

Cutting him off in the middle of his rambling, this might have been the first time that Lilly had ever seen Kol vulnerable. It was shocking, much more so than whatever other tales he thought he had to impress her with, "Where is home, Kol?"

"I told you, I have had many-"

Again she interrupted, repeated her question now, almost like a chant, "Where is home, Kol?" It was a simple inquiry, but he felt as though he'd been stripped naked and left for public ridicule.

He shifted uncomfortably; he should have fed before he came to the abbey. He was likely to go mad and kill half the parishioners if she didn't stop.

Watching him shuffle, almost nervously, avoiding her gaze, Lilly felt a strong sense of emptiness and loss coming from Kol. It could have been her imagination, perhaps just her interpretation of his behaviors because she wasn't aware that wolves had the ability to sense other's emotions so keenly. But she could have sworn she could feel both on Kol like a written sign.

"You do not have one, do you?"

Like a petulant child he shot back, "What would you know about home? Trivial things such as those don't matter when you aren't human."

"Yes, they do. If they didn't then you wouldn't be so upset." She'd struck a significant nerve, one she never intended to agitate. Lilly only assumed that everyone must feel the same as she: they had a place where they were welcomed, loved, needed even, if only by one other person.

"Is Harte Manor not home, now? Your brothers are there."

"And so that would make it home? What is a home anyhow? It's only a place where your belongings are kept. I have plenty of those."

That place was not home. Elijah and Klaus wanted him there no more than he wished to be there, most days. Elijah and Klaus didn't need him; they had each other and their little plans, the never ending system of competition and companionship between them.

For a while he thought things might be different with Rebekah. When she'd left Venice with him close to four hundred years ago, they'd spent the last four centuries traveling where ever they pleased, doing whatever it was that they wished.

She told Kol she could be free with him. Rebekah could act as she wished; carry on hundreds of her brief affairs with her pathetic human males without judgment. She could live her life without fear, for she knew Kol would never turn on her, leave her cold in a box as Klaus had Finn.

He told her that someday, they'd find a way to release him. So Rebekah could be unburdened of her guilt. He had thought that they needed one another. If Elijah had Klaus, he would always have Rebekah. But as soon as the threat of Mikael had come into the picture, in truth before, he realized that would never be true.

Rebekah may run to him when she fled Klaus but she'd always prefer their brother. She may have stayed away, even with the looming threat of Mikael hunting them, but Kol knew it would only be a matter of time until she went back to Klaus.

And then what would Kol have?

"Home is where you are at peace, where you belong and are wanted- always, no matter what."

No, Kol didn't have a home. He had a spiteful father, who will kill or torture any of them to get to Klaus. He had a dead mother and brother and another that was held hostage by two members of their family whom could care less whether Kol perished or not.

Maybe Rebekah ran to Kol because she thought he'd protect her from Klaus. His brother wouldn't waste a dagger on him. He'd rather let him run free, out of sight and mind, then keep him in a box like Finn, carrying him around everywhere he went, a burden.

"It seemed that we are not the loving family that you have enjoyed."

The words came with an amused expression but she could see just below the facade he was attempting with her, there was someone who was lost. He may have lived eight life times more than she, but Kol was perhaps more confused about life than Lilly had ever been. She'd never had to question whether Lyanna loved her, wanted her.

How terrible it must feel to have an eternity of those kinds of questions. Kol seemed to be many great things, many of them deplorable in nature. But he'd saved her that night in the forest knew whom she was the entire time and had not been repulsed.

He most certainly was not a knight from the fairytale stories Elspeth and Lyanna had told her when she was still a child. But he had other redeemable qualities and despite recent events, honesty was one of them.

Elspeth would likely douse her in holy water if she knew; start muttering in Gaelic, praying to Mary for intercession, Lyanna would surely disapprove. But if she asked Katerina, she knew she'd tell her 'yes'. A person couldn't help how they felt, even if it was wrong.

Kol watched Lilly licked her lips as if she were trying to decide something. Maybe he'd disgusted her with his small lapse, his exposure of weakness?

Apparently settling on her answer, she stepped forward, not caring who saw. Leaning up on her toes, she framed his face with her hands, pulling him closer, "You are a terrible lecher and you think yourself to be much more humorous than what you actually are...but..." he was about to make a snide rebuttal when she leaned in and kissed him. Not like their other hurried, hungry ones.

It was gentle and sincere. Pulling away she finished, "You are not forgotten. I will remember you."

"Lilly!"

Lyanna waved to her from the carriage.

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

Kol didn't respond as she ran back to the carriage. It seemed she was always the first to go, leaving him with too many thoughts. Ones he shouldn't be thinking. The kind that would get him killed if Klaus found out.

It was a terrible advantage she had and played it well. He was sure the thousands he'd preyed on over the years that, for the rest of the meager lives, never forgot him.

It wasn't being remembered by someone that gave him this feeling. It was being purposely remembered by the right person.

Lilly was just a silly little werewolf. What could she possibly know about the tedium of eternity, the emptiness that came with being the only one that seemed to not have a purpose?

Still tasting her on his lips, it appeared she knew more than Kol could have imagined.

She'd remember him and Kol would never forget her, no matter how terribly he'd wish differently over the next five hundred years.

* * *

 

Looking around as the people filed out of the abbey, Niklaus immediately noticed Elijah and Katerina standing beside the carriage, Lilly, Kol and Elspeth not far behind but no Lyanna. Maybe she could sense that he was looking for her and had decided to hide, run, or seek refuge?

No, nothing about that rang true to any part of Lyanna. If she knew he was looking to confront her, she'd likely have been there; prepared, dagger and sharp tongue ready.

He wasn't going to leave without addressing her little indiscretion first. Niklaus would be damned if he had sat through two hours of mindless blabber, the proselytizing of fairytales, without getting what he'd came here for.

Ducking back into the abbey, he checked the sanctuary again and found it empty. There were only so many places for a lady to hide. Then he saw it, tucked away at the end of the long hall, a woman exiting.

Nodding somewhat politely at the elderly lady that passed, he made his way down the corridor, stepping inside the sequestered room. Behind a heavy dark curtain, there was a collection of candles, seated at the foot of a marble statue of Mary.

A few rows of dark wooden pews, spread out over the wide room and a gaudy, rod iron cross complete with marbled Christ skewered to it, was at the front of the confessional area.

Empty, he noticed her immediately, on her knees, in front of the first row of pews, waiting for the priest that would come to sit in the bench directly behind, listening to the sins of his parishioners.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are those among children and blessed if the fruit of thy womb. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for sinners now and in the hour of our death."

As she continued onto the next bead, whispering to herself, he snuck into the room without detection.

 _What did she pray for?_ He wondered. It shocked him that a woman as practical as Lyanna would believe or practice such trivial, contrite traditions. If he were honest with himself, he could have listened to her for a while longer, pondering what it was that sent the humans running in fear to such idealisms. However he sensed that their time would be short.

Absorbed completely in her thoughts, hoping for insight as to what she should do about her current predicament, Lyanna had come to confession for the first time in close to four years. She feared it would take her another four, to confess and be pardoned.

Although she may not have completely trusted Father Hall, he seemed to possibly be her only ally. And if she ever needed advice from either Father Hall or the father himself it was now.

"Lyanna..." his voice, sent chills down her spine as she looked up to find Niklaus leaning against the adjacent wall.

"Come to ask for forgiveness?"

"Go away," she answered, closing her eyes to continue. Why was he here? How his skin didn't start on fire the moment he entered this place, was beyond her.

"If you wanted my forgiveness, you need not kneel to ask for it," he resumed.

 _Does he know?_ she wondered. No, she was sure, from the look Elijah had given her before he left, that morning he'd saved her from the lake, that he would not breathe a word of it. Perhaps he didn't even know of what she was doing?

How did he know that she was there? How did Elijah know she'd be the lake?

"Although that might be interesting..."

Her face, crumpled in disgust, caused him to smirk briefly in return before he acted. Moving quickly behind her, he clamped his hand over her mouth, restraining her arms before she had a chance to act.

"I think someone has been lying to me," he teased, harshly.

Struggling, she managed to get one hand free as she attempted to uncover her mouth.

"I think someone has not been holding up their end of our bargain."

Irritated, she screamed, hoping someone would hear and come in, forcing him to stop. He knew. Elijah must have known what she was doing.

He'd told him. Of course he'd told him.

Unrelenting, he squeezed her hard enough that she swore her rib would crack under the pressure, before continuing, "What was it that you told me, Lyanna? I believe you said you hated liars."

She writhed against him, squirming in every direction but failing to make progress.

"Interesting that you said that, Love..."she hated that he used that now. That was her word to condescend to him. Now he used it against her like a weapon.

"I hate liars as well..."

Her rosary scraped down the seat of the wooden pew, leaving an ugly white mark in the dark wood. The harder she tried to squirm away from him, the harder he pressed her forward. Hand over her mouth; sounds of her struggle were muffled, even as she bit through the flesh of his fingers, his blood dripping through her teeth before the wound could heal.

One of her hands clawed at his, clamped over her mouth, the other one snaked behind her, ripping at the skin of his throat, trying to tear at his face as he effortlessly moved out of her reach. She bent forward, desperate to get away as he pulled the back of her thighs tighter against the front of him.

"What did I tell you about crossing me, Love?" desperately, she swung again for his head- missing.

His arm pressed into her diaphragm, forcing air out, sending her spiralling further into a panic, making her feel as though she'd suffocate.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Lyanna?"

His fingers dug into her ribs, possibly bruising, his knuckles brushing the underside of her breast.

"Hm?" he continued, as if she could even answer.

He was going to strike the fear of God into her, even if it meant suffocating her in the process, possibly making her cry, struggle and scream pleas for him to relent. Enough was enough. The crime was no more egregious than any other- harmless really. But that wasn't the point. She couldn't be trusted. If he let this slip, what else, which might actually be significant, would she try?

Did she think she could turn Elijah against him? That he'd sever his loyalties to Klaus over one human woman? If she thought him weak because of his brother's vulnerability, would she be bold enough, to attempt to bring Father Hall in league with her, go to the Parliament? Would she try to peculate Harte Manor, right out from underneath them? Think them to be ignorant, unaware of what she was planning?

Insolence was a dangerous thing.

She bit harder into his hand, possibly hitting bone, blood dribbled down her chin, blotting into the sleeve of his arm. Trying to both scream and breathe, whilst not drowning in fluid, she swallowed his blood, regretfully.

"Did you think I would not find out?"

Her hand made contact with his head this time, grabbing him by the throat, squeezing pathetically as he shrugged her off. Trying to strike again, her bottom pressed notably firmly against him, eliciting a small rush of lust.

If she were wise, Lyanna would have held still. He didn't know what he enjoyed more, finally feeling as if he ascendancy over Lyanna or the rigorous fight she was giving him in return.

Running with it, more on instinct and possibly to further prove his control, his fingers danced up, feeling over the cloth covering her right breast.

Weeks before he thought twice of calling her by her given name. Now drunk on authority, proximity, he boldly stopped thinking, letting predatory instincts take over.

"Anything you do, Lyanna, I'll know," he threatened.

It was a violation, a perversion really. She fought back, gnawing again at his injured fingers, more blood rushing into her mouth, forcing her to swallow, inciting him further.

His hand slipped under the neckline of her dress, groping her. Pinching her nipple, soft at first, causing a dull ache to form between her thighs, which she tried to ignore.

She hated him. What kind of sick, abhorrent creature was he? Had he no respect for anyone, fear of anything- attacking her in the abbey?

But a person's body and mind weren't always connected it seemed. And neither was Niklaus's understanding of pain and pleasure, as he purposely pinched until he applied enough pressure that pleasure soon became pain.

"Do you fear me?" he questioned, whispering into her ear, before dodging her hand once more. She held still suddenly, trying her best to ignore him.

He wanted nothing more than a reaction from her, this she knew. Niklaus fed from it, needed the attention she'd denied him. As Katerina would trail behind him, like she assumed countless women previous, hanging on his every word, clinging to scraps of his attention in adulation, Lyanna refused to venerate him.

Without validation, he'd soon tire, after he'd felt he'd proved his point and surely leave her. Perhaps if he had his little speech then they could be done.

Perhaps not….

Leaving her breast, his hand dropped to the hem of her dress, mildly struggling with her for moments as she tried pushed him away.

Disappearing beneath, he leaned in again once more, hand sliding between her thighs that she tried desperately to keep closed.

"You should, Love. You know not whom you toy with."

This was a point of no return. Having a brief glimpse of what he was entering into, his hand rested on her thigh, her breathing heavy as he could feel her chest rise and fall.

His intentions were to scare her, make sure she knew whom she was dealing with. This crossed a line; Niklaus hesitated for a moment.

Fingers brushed forward, punctiliously, somewhat absolved by what he found.

She could have died of embarrassment. She surely would rather have God strike her dead at that moment then have him discover what was disgustingly already evident to her.

Finding her damp, he smirked, "Are you not going to pretend to struggle anymore?" Tracing the outline of her, he continued, his finger dipping inside, causing Lyanna to clamp down around him, reflexively trying to force him out.

She waited for some other hideous thing to come out of his mouth. Making her feel even more culpable for the malfeasance her body was willingly participating in. But instead he was silent. Sparing her his dialogue, his forehead pressed to the back of her veil, as he took a private moment- breathing deeply in wonderment.

Her smell... yes, he remembered it now from that night by the fire, it lingered in the room where she'd slept in Harte manor, similar to how her scent perfumed every drawing, letter and other thing that he had kept tucked away with the handkerchief she'd given him.

 _I'll burn them all tomorrow, even the drawings_ , he swore to himself. He would let her words to Elijah go up in smoke, just like his thoughts of her; watch as her smell dissipated in the flames along with that ridiculous white square of cotton.

Yes, tomorrow would be the day that he'd rid himself of her influence.

Except for one letter…

He'd leave one for prosperity. To remind him what a moment of humanity had brought him.

What could keeping, just one, hurt?

But for now, since it wasn't tomorrow, he'd let himself enjoy this.

Maybe it was the sudden silence that allowed her to do it- to release her thoughts for a second. She'd pretend, or try to anyhow, believe that what was happening wasn't between her and Niklaus. It could have been Elijah.

 _It's Elijah..._ flitted through the back of her mind, as she tried to convince herself of things she knew were lies.

As he moved inside her, her hand dropped from his arm, gripping the seat of the pew, rosary beads, clinking off the wood. When his thumb traced over her clitoris, he received the reaction he sought, as she murmured, her bottom curving back further, rubbing against him.

"Ly," he breathed, so quiet and muffled she didn't hear.

Tracing circles, he moved his hips up against hers, as she subconsciously pressed further into his hand. Her fingers grabbed at him again, this time making contact with hair at the nape of his neck. Short, she caught what strands she could, tugging hard, ripping it from the root, causing him to hiss against the back of her head as she continued to move against him, he against her.

Eyes wrenched closed, she tried to pretend that it was okay. That what they were doing wasn't only a violation of trust, affection, of both Katerina and Elijah, but also a crime committed against God.

As his fingers quickened their pace, a lewd smacking noise softly filled the room that was lit by prayer candles, perfumed with incense, and otherwise bathed in reverent silence. She could feel him hard against her, his hips rocking forward, in encouragement, his hand falling from her mouth to her breast outlining her nipple through the fabric.

Sinful thoughts, corrupt thoughts, flooded out other nagging ones, as she started to vibrate around his fingers.

She should have been fighting. She should still be clawing at his face. Lyanna should be thinking of Katerina- possibly even Elijah, of every pretty word he'd ever said to her and every foolish thought of a future she may have let wander into her mind.

Most of all, she should have been thinking about not only what she was doing and whom she was doing it with, but also _where_ she was doing it. Rosary beads clattered at a steady pace-in unison with their hips, his hands, her breaths- against the pew, as Lyanna bit her tongue and repressed a moan. All she could focus on was stumbling towards the finish, finding the release she wanted so terribly.

Fluid rushed over Niklaus's fingers, her walls contracting around them, the remnants of sex and raw want filled the air, mingled with incense and her smell. His noise pressed further into her veil covered hair. Poison, the whole thing reeked of poison- deadly in its deception.

 _The poisoned vine, breeds a finer wine,_ Ines' voice rang in his ears.

As Lyanna finished, her eyes snapped open, taking in the sight of Christ on the cross: his lidded, sorrowful, tortured expression, crown of thrones and all, looking down on her.

She was going to hell.

Lascivious thoughts swirled around her mind, colored with guilt. When she could feel herself being nudged, her hands flew out, bracing her shoulders for the fall as she found herself bent forward on her knees, her legs being spread, skirt raised over her hips.

The alarm bells that should have been sounding in her mind were muffled by post release bliss, mixed with desperate lust. Cold air hit the back of her thighs, her flushed cheek pressing against the cool pew seat.

 _Stop this. Stop this, now, Lyanna!_ Her mind screamed. And she may have had every intention of doing so, when she suddenly felt her skirts dropping. With her shoulders being forced back, Lyanna found herself once again in a sitting position, her bottom rested on her heels, with no one kneeling behind her.

The shuffling of robes filled the hallowed halls, as the priest passed by the door, preparing himself to take the Eucharist before attending to Lyanna's confession.

The spell was broken. As quickly as they were sucked into their little world of debauchery, a higher power, or rather the priest, took it upon himself to interrupt with his looming threat of entering the room within minutes.

Looking around, she found Niklaus feet away, lighting a candle as if he were preparing himself for confession.

Her cheeks burned bright red, veil pulled completely from her head, breasts peeking out from the top of her dress. Scrambling from the ground, straightening her skirts, she retrieved her beads from the pew, readjusting the veil over her hair.

Turning from the statue of the Blessed Virgin, he called to her, "Lyanna..."

Her knees ached, along with other parts of her she'd rather not think about.

"Stay away from me," she threatened, quickly making her way to the door.

"Lyanna…" he continued less patiently, "You will think on what I have said?"

"No," she shot back quickly, answering the question he'd asked earlier, "I'm not afraid of you." And he knew it then that she meant it. Standing there, with her still sticky from his fingers, his blood smeared and dried on her chin, she looked at him with more disdain then he'd ever seen from anyone in his life, even Hannah. It was an immediate separation, dissociation, of her from him.

"Do not ever touch me again. Do you understand me?" she condescended to him, like he were a child and she were the disciplining adult, erasing whatever they had just shared, understood, moments before.

Five hundred years, he'd fucked, fed and terrorized at his own free will. Two months with this women and he felt as if he lived his whole life under tyrannical control, disciplined with the harshest emotional forms of corporal punishment at each turn. The worst of it, she didn't even have to try to be indifferent- she just was. Easily, controlling her emotions, it seemed; able to shut him out without another thought, as he should be able to do with her.

As she turned to leave, return to those that waited for her, rendering him alone, Niklaus yelled after her, spiteful as ever, "Go then, run back to my brother!" almost as a challenge, a curse, pointing out her sin.

She didn't look back, only clutched her beads tighter. Stopping in front of the pool of holy water, she dipped the sleeve of her dress, into the aqueous, oiled liquid, using it to wash his blood from her face. Embarrassed, confused, she looked up at the stained glass window behind the sacred pool and saw Christ with his apostles.

Reaching out to them as they slept, blessing them for the trials ahead, there were only ten figures pictured with him in the Garden of Gethsemane: Phillip in the distance, crucified upside down and Judas standing outside the gates, looking in.

Judas, she was worse than Judas. She'd sworn, like Iscariot, that she'd not betray Katerina or ever think of leaving Lilly. She had cursed liars.

She was a liar, a terrible, awful, liar.

Crossing herself, Lyanna could have sworn she could feel the thirty pieces of Sanhedrin silver jingling in her pockets, weighing her down; the noose of guilt closing around her neck. She'd sold her soul for protection. She'd gone against nature, what Nathaniel would have wanted.

She'd been forced into a precarious association with evil itself, all in order to save Katerina, Lilly and Greyshaw. Little did she know that with her soul, her own thirty pieces of silver, she'd bought from Niklaus, Akeldama.

"For the sake of his sorrowful soul, have mercy on us and have mercy on the world," she prayed, looking up at the window one last time before leaving the abbey and Niklaus behind, finding Katerina, Elijah and Elspeth waiting for her beside the carriage.

* * *

 

It was quiet when they came. Just after the evening meal. Katerina lay in front of the fire, Lilly playing with her hair. Mindless chatter, everything light hearted, much more than what they deserved but soon, as with everything, it would end.

Reading her book in the corner of the room, Lyanna felt the chill and head the foot steps before the door burst open.

"Lady Lockwood?"

He tracked snow behind him, along with a trial of female servants, a guard from the door.

"You cannot be in here?" he protested, but the intruder wouldn't listen.

"Lady Lockwood?!" he bellowed even louder.

Dressed in a thick wool cloak, dyed royal blue she hardly could believe what she saw.

"Yes, that is I," she answered, placing her book on the side table, standing in greeting.

"I tried to tell him My Lady that you were not taking visitors," the older female pleaded.

"It's fine…. How can I help you?"

"I am here by order of the Hundred Courts, you are under arrest," quickly he moved toward her, another man whom was waiting in the hall, stepping forward.

"Lyanna?" Lilly and Katerina, rushed to her aide, scared, trying to intervene, not understanding what was happening.

"Why?" Lyanna boldly asked as he took her by the wrists, starting to bind them together.

"For conspiracy and murder of over a dozen souls on your lands, not a week past."

"Lyanna?" Lilly grabbed at the man, to stop him, but he shrugged her off.

Tying her hands tightly behind her back, he pushed her towards the door, the girls beginning to cry, scared.

"I will be fine, girls," she cried over shoulder, "Find Elspeth."

As they shuffled her down the halls of her own home, a man at each side, those who worked for her watched looking down on Lyanna as if she were a common criminal, walking to the executioner's blade.

Not struggling, she followed willingly, being given no other choice. She should have seen this coming. Perhaps this was what Father Hall was trying to warn her of, this type of aggression.

What she'd do now she didn't know.

* * *

 

When the girls found Elspeth, the elderly woman moved as quickly as if she were six and ten. Her first inclination was to go after the Sheriff, try to plead with him. Perhaps they could purchase Lyanna's freedom. But she knew not where to go. The Hundred Courts was a moving system. In their small village they had no official housing for their Sheriff.

Both Katerina and Lilly besides themselves were sure of one thing. There was only one place they could go for help: Harte Manor.

Elspeth vehemently tried to stop them. Pleading with the girls all the way to the door, holding on to them, promising that she'd find another way. Katerina, looked at her strangely not understanding, but Lilly knew clearly what her reservations were. But they had no other choice. They had no allies. They were an island onto themselves, vulnerable. It would be Lyanna's word against the pack, an entire group of men, some of them well respected in that area.

They had to go to the Mikaelsons, no matter how strained their alliance may be. They were perhaps the only ones that could help.

* * *

 

When the girls arrived without announcement, dresses soaked, eyes red from crying, faces white from shock Niklaus knew something must be terribly wrong.

"They just took her," Lilly stammered, as Katerina ran to Elijah, not Niklaus for comfort. What a strange turn of events this was. Instinctively, Elijah responded, allowing her to cling to him.

"Took whom? What are you talking about?" Elijah questioned, the snow from Katerina's cloak soaking into his tunic.

"Lyanna," Lilly rambled. "They came, saying something about the Hundred Courts- accusing her of murder."

Kol kept his distance, standing in the background when Lilly began to shake from chill and shock. Elijah comforting Katerina, deferred to Klaus for a long moment, whom until this point was completely silent, seemingly unshaken by the announcement.

"Who took her?" he questioned calmly.

"The sheriff."

"Where?"

"I don't know…" Kol could see the tears reforming in Lily's eyes, ones that she tried to hold back, ashamed to cry in front of him.

"The abbey," Elijah offered. "There is no official posting for the Hundred Courts in this area. If he has taken Lyanna, he will detain her there."

"Elijah we have to help her. What should we do?" Katerina questioned, her words somewhat muffled in his tunic.

"I will go see sheriff," he offered, starting to detach himself from Katerina.

"No." Finally rising, setting down his drink, Niklaus answered, "I will go to abbey."

"W-What are you g-going to do?" Lilly shivered.

"Reason with them," Niklaus answered, in a way that sent a frozen chill through Lilly's already frigid body.

* * *

 

When Klaus arrived at the abbey, he was greeted by Father Hall, who looked just as panicked as Klaus deep down would soon feel. He explained that they had held Lyanna there for a period of time, but that due to the nature of her alleged crimes, the Sheriff claimed that Lady Lockwood should not be held on holy ground.

Although Father Hall had ardently disagreed, even going as far as argue that Lyanna should be kept at the abbey until the Chief Pledge arrived so that she may be given opportunity to confess, the Sheriff seemed to have other plans.

"Where would they have taken her?"

When he had left Harte Manor, he had thought that retrieving Lyanna would be an easy task. He'd compel a few officials and have her back at Greyshaw before the dawn broke. Now was not the time for the prying eyes to be invading into their little world. He still had twenty some odd days until the next full moon.

But with each hour that passed that she wasn't found, mysteriously disappearing with their area's freeholder Sheriff, he began to worry, that the pack had become even more desperate. Not even willing to use the full Hundred Courts to go after Lyanna and Lockwood lands. That instead their only plan was to use the Frank Pledge system as an excuse to retrieve her from Greyshaw, and then kill her, like a dog on the side of the road.

By the time he'd reached the village she'd been missing for over half the evening and it was only an hour until morning. Crowded with close to a hundred huts, there was only one place she could be if they were holding her in any type of public place.

It could hardly be referred to as a tavern, as pathetic as the little building was. But being the only structure made of stone, it stood out like a castle next to the modest little homes and moveable carts for market.

All of this work for one woman. He should have sent Elijah and saved himself the trouble. Lyanna Lockwood and her encompassing problems, which were rapidly becoming Klaus's, were anything but dull.

* * *

 

After Klaus had made his hasty exit, Elijah offered Katerina a glass of bourbon.

"To warm you."

Gratefully she took it, sucking down its contents, handing him the glass for more.

Lilly hadn't said another word, just stared solemnly into the fire. She was still shaking but seemed unaware, instead lost in thought.

Elijah looked at Kol sternly, clearly suggesting that he offer his aid to Lilly. But Kol was not one to be lead and Elijah knew nothing about the woman.

Kol could tell from the way she stood that the last thing she wished at this moment was to be touched or comforted by anyone.

"Come with me, I'll find something for you to change into while your gowns dry," Elijah offered. Katerina, eagerly accepted, but Lilly shook her head in refusal.

Left with just the two of them, the tension was unbearable as Kol couldn't find the right things to say. He was never good at these sorts of things. When he knew Rebekah would cry she would come to him, cling to Kol for comfort. He never had to go to her.

Lyanna would be fine. Klaus wouldn't let anything happen to the widow for fear it would ruin his plan.

But he couldn't explain that to Lilly.

"She'll be back by sunrise. Klaus will solve this little issue."

"And if he can't? He cannot compel every member of the freeholders, Kol. What do Katerina and I do then?"

If Klaus couldn't compel them, he'd slaughter the men and deal with the consequences later. Again, something that wouldn't likely comfort Lilly in a moment like this.

"She'll surely meet the executioner's blade Kol. They'll do whatever it takes to get that land." By 'they' he assumed she meant the pack.

"If Lyanna were to die," he started, playing devil's advocate, "Which is highly unlikely, life would go on Lilly. You would still keep Greyshaw, you are a Lockwood."

"You think I want that place now!" she screamed tears streaming down her face. "You think I want to stay someplace, fight over land with Lyanna gone?"

Perhaps it was not the best time to bring this point up, but Kol had never been one for tact in conversation, "I thought Greyshaw was home."

Lilly wiped tears from her face, "Kol did you not listen to a word I've said?"

No he was pretty sure he'd heard every one from their conversation at the abbey. They all had been burned into his memory on constant repeat, especially what she'd said to him in the end.

"It doesn't mean anything without Lyanna. They could have it all: that damn stone, the land, the Manor. I don't want any of it. I'll live in a ditch," she snapped.

"Are you done?" he asked, when she'd finished her rant.

When she didn't respond he answered, "You do not need Lyanna, Lilly. You could survive just fine on your own."

"And what would I have Kol? Nothing... I would have nothing."

Kol hated sentimental moments, they made his skin crawl. When Rebekah would cry, he held her because it would shut her up. His composure with Lilly had already begun to corrode over the past months. He didn't need one more thing to think about regarding Lilly Lockwood.

So instead, he stood beside her, listening to her cry, ramble, until she reached for him. Against his better judgment, much out of character, he comforted her, "She'll live Lilly, I promise," for now anyway.

Lying to her was becoming increasingly more difficult as she chipped away at the carefully crafted wall of indifference he'd been building over the past few centuries.

It was just another moment, one of many he'd wish he could forget.

* * *

 

"Where is it Lyanna?"

On a dirt floor, in the small back room, hands and feet bound she looked up at Arthur as he glared down at her, his breath putrid.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The Chief Pledge insisted that he would give Arthur and his companion a few moments with her before they left. The Hundred Courts didn't have a definite seat in this area of Strathclyde. The crime for close to five decades had been minimal, easy controlled by the Frank Pledge alliance, Galbraith clan and the local sheriff. In the past year and a half, however, there had been more unsolved killings in one small hundred mile radius then in the whole of their territory and part of Wales.

She could be tried technically in the Scottish courts, by Galbraith law. But at this point the English system jumped at the idea of finding a conspirator to solve social unrest whilst garnering public favour over the clan. It seemed even Lyanna's death would be political, their area, a battleground for control between the English and Scottish crowns.

For a case of this measure the trial wouldn't take place in their little village. Lyanna wouldn't be kept in a small room at the back of a makeshift tavern. As a child of Britton, as the Hundred Courts would claim, she'd be taken south of Lennox out of Scottish territory and tried in Scrathclyde's seat, Dumbarton.

"Have you ever been to an execution Lyanna?" Reaching down, he touched her face, "Soon those lips of yours will be blue as your head rolls in front of all of Dumbarton." She bit at his hand like a rabid dog.

"Temperamental… good, you'll need that fight when they keep you in the hole for weeks in this type of weather, only your own piss to warm you."

"I'll manage."

"Is that so? Do tell me, Lyanna. What is your plan to avoid the reaper's blade?"

"Truth."

"Truth?" he snickered.

"Yes, are the Hundred Courts not a blind justice?"

He smiled wide, "Read that in your books did you? You and Nathaniel, filling your head with useless lies."

"Do you even know how to read?" she snapped.

He lunged for her throat, grabbing her hard, Lyanna wheezed bound hands clawing away at his grip as she choked for air.

"Not so witty now, are you Lockwood whore?"

"Arthur," his partner warned, the Chief Pledge and Sheriff within hearing distance.

Relenting he released his grip, Lyanna gasping for air. "Tell me where the stone is Lyanna and I will make this all go away."

"'fhéidir go bhfuil sé idir do bhean chéile chosa? Chuma sí go bhfuil neart seomra." (could it be between your wife's legs? She seemed to have plenty of room.)

She expected him to lung at her again but this time he bent slowly, "It seems your husband took something that was mine," his hand slithered under Lyanna's gown, running up her leg, onto her thigh, "Perhaps a little late, but should I not have the favour repaid" He stopped at her small clothes as she kicked at his hand.

"Arthur," the other member of the pack looked over his shoulder at the door.

Spiting in his face, she answered, "Was that your finger or your prick? I couldn't tell."

Wiping her saliva from his eye, he may have tried to push her down further on the dirt floor and attempted to rape her into submission, wipe the proud look off her face with tears of shame, but there wasn't time.

He smirked, "No worries lovely Lyanna, both young Lady Lockwood and that women of yours, your guest, they will both be able to tell the difference between my prick between their thighs and my fingers covering their mouths before this is all said and done."

He was playing for vulnerability. Testing to see just how much he could use Lilly and Katerina against her. To be swayed by his threats, give him the reaction he wished would only encourage further action.

"You could violate all of Greyshaw and you'll never find it, Arthur."

Their time was up, as the Chief Pledge re-entered the room. Rising from the ground he promised, "We'll have to see if Lady Lockwood's tongue is tight as yours."

Fear burst forth, "You stay away from Lilly!"

When the Chief Pledge and Sheriff looked warily at the two men, Arthur knew he'd worn out his welcome.

"I'll see you in Dumbarton, Lyanna. I hope the rats don't get you too badly."

* * *

 

As he led her back to the room, she'd stayed in before; Katerina immediately began tugging at the laces at the front of her dress.

With his back to her, Elijah gathered the clean shift procured from one of many female servants. When he turned to find her sternum clearly bared for his viewing, wet hair sticking to her shoulders, he averted his eyes, clearing his throat, "For you, leave your gown and the staff will take care of it."

Amused with his chivalry, Katerina let her gown open even move until her naval could be seen.

"Thank you for your kindness."

"You are most welcome." Elijah didn't have to be so decent. Clearly she was putting on a show for him, testing the waters to see how far she could draw him out.

Today would not be that day. He let a few brief images flash through his mind: his hand slipping through her gown, those lips she thanked him with being put to better use, thanking him in a much more gratifying way.

Quickly, he pushed those glimpses back into the periphery of his mind where they belonged.

True, they were just humans. Soon their lives would end and at the current moment the letters that once came in volume from Lyanna had stopped. But Elijah liked to think himself much more dignified than to resort to molesting Katerina while Lyanna sat in shackles somewhere.

Klaus would call him pathetic. But he knew loyalty to be one of the most important pieces of character a man could have, even if it was to just creatures like humans. Elijah didn't care freely, despite what his brother may have thought. And when he did, he intended to keep those sentiments pure.

"I'll leave you to dress."

As he left, he could hear her gown hit the floor. She was testing his will, not very subtly.

"Thank you Elijah," she called after him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

* * *

 

He had listened just long enough to the Chief Pledge's conversation with their area's Sheriff to know that they planned to transfer her to Dumbarton, likely to a quick death by their estimations. Picking up on the wolves, their tones were considerably more hushed as he overheard the exchange between Lyanna and one she called Arthur.

He'd heard that name before. The man from the abbey, the first day he'd met his hunter.

Patiently he waited for its conclusion, considering intervening more than a few times as the discussion turned quickly sour with threats. Lyanna, as usual, found all the wrong times to speak her mind however amusing her fight may be. It was nice for a change to hear someone else be at the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

With the sound of footsteps near the threshold, he considered killing them both immediately. Two less wolves for him to trouble himself with, however, their deaths would only further escalate the crimes levied against Lyanna. He could compel the two officials but would not be able to quell an entire village convinced that there was a murderess in their midst going unpunished.

If he squelched the fire now, perhaps word wouldn't get out beyond the pack and mob mentality could be thwarted.

Watching both men disappear down the road, Klaus knew in all certainty it would not be the last time their paths crossed. As this Arthur seemed determined to unseat Lyanna and therefore complicate his plans before the full moon, Arthur would have to die.

Entering the tavern were he'd fed freely weeks before, he heard them in the back of the building.

"Lady Lockwood, by authority of the Hundred Courts and the Freeholders system under the holy guidance of King Henry the VII, you are accused of violating the Frankpledge law through the killing of fifteen innocent men on your lands."

"Do you deny this crime?"

From the doorway he could see her stockings ripped and torn, gown heavy with mud. Lifting her head as if they were guests in her sitting room she calmly replied, "Yes, I think we are all well aware that I could not have possibly murdered fifteen men in one evening, single handily."

It was terrible timing, but all Klaus could think was how he was perhaps the one man who had seen Lyanna not composed and what a sight she was on both occasions.

"By the authority of the Hundred Courts you will be transferred to Dumbarton, where you will await trial."

"I do not think that will be necessary."

Both men turned to find Klaus leaning against the door frame, as if it were completely natural for him to be there.

"Excuse me!" the Chief Pledge barked, "You cannot be here, this is a matter-"

"That is soon to be resolved," flashing forward he grabbed the older gentleman but the head, pulling him close, "You will release Lady Lockwood-"

"I beg your pardon!" the Sheriff cried out.

"Quiet," Klaus snapped, compelling the man to promptly close his mouth, "And wait your turn."

Turning his focus back on the Chief Pledge, he continued, "You will dismiss this entire case."

"I will?"

"Yes, you will. Witnesses claim it was a male that attacked those men. He was foreign looking and hasn't been seen since. He is rumoured to still be wandering around the countryside."

"Yes," he answered, completely transfixed.

"You will tell your superiors that there is absolutely no evidence to corroborate the claims against Lady Lockwood and you will profess her innocence to anyone whom shall inquire."

The man shook his head in agreement as Klaus moved to the Sheriff, repeating the same instructions.

By the time he'd finished with them both, he looked down to help Lyanna from the ground only to find her missing.

Excusing himself from both men he finished, "Neither of you have ever seen me. I was not here. After finding Lady Lockwood innocent you returned her to Greyshaw. Is that understood?"

Both agreed.

Exiting the small room, the door to the tavern was wide open, snow blowing through. What was the matter with this woman? Did she not know how to be properly saved?

Following her out onto the road, he could see a figure struggling not forty yards ahead of him. Feet still somewhat bound, her walk was more a hurried shuffle.

"Do you plan to crawl your way back to Greyshaw?" he called out into the snow.

"Go away!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"If you plan on walking all the way back to the Lockwood Lands, I won't stop you," he called out.

Stupid woman, let her freeze with her pride. He'd held up his end of the bargain.

"However, it will be a long shuffle with your feet still bound like that."

That got her attention as she stopped.

Lyanna's face was burning red and she hadn't even turned to face him yet. Of all the people for the girls to go to, wasn't she specific when she said Elspeth? She would have never sent the Mikaelsons for Lyanna.

At the very least could they not have sent Elijah? Oh how she would have loved to see his kind face at this moment, she even would have tolerated Kol's smirk, anything but-

"Well are you going to stand there all pathetic like or would you like some assistance?"

-Niklaus. She would rather have Arthur back, taken her chances with the Hundred Courts and the rats.

 _Do not think about it, Lyanna,_ her mind sternly warned. Turning she looked up at him a sour look on her face.

"Now is that the way to greet your hero, scurrying off like that? Really we must work on your gratitude."

"You are not my hero. I had the situation completely under control."

If under control meant she was out of plans, had prayed the rosary a dozen times in her mind, tried to appeal to every saint in heaven and hell and still was sure she'd freeze before she even made the chopping block, then Lyanna had everything finely calculated.

"Really? Well I guess you won't be needing my help then?" No she wouldn't need his help. She never wanted to see him again. How dare he come here, with altruistic gestures, feigning benevolence, after the thing he'd done- what had happened.

Like it had all been a figment of her imagination.

He turned to leave. She never wanted to see him again, but she needed him now, "Wait!" she called out, stopping him.

"You offered to help me with my ropes. It would be churlish to go back on your word now."

He should leave her bound like that, but he couldn't stand the thought of Elijah scolding him, giving him that disapproving look if he arrived back at Harte Manor without her, or furthermore that he'd left her in the middle of the road.

Walking back he stood in front of her, eyes locked, waiting.

The breaths in front of Lyanna's face slowed to a faint fog.

"What?" she finally questioned, somewhat less impervious than before. Did he really have to look her that way?

"You told me to never touch you again. It would be difficult to follow your _orders_ ," the sound of that word was harsh and unforgiving, "And assist you, it would seem."

She hadn't told him, he was right, she ordered him. But since when did Niklaus care about the things she may or may not have said. The answer to that question was a little too obvious for either of them to handle.

She nodded her head in response, but Niklaus wouldn't budge, he wanted to hear her choke on her own words. If she wasn't shaking from the chill and her worries about both Lilly and Katerina she may have been willing to play out their little standoff but time was of the essence.

"Niklaus, will you please touch me."

He bent then, easily snapping the rope. Lyanna could feel the blood begin to rush into part of her ankles again. Still on the ground, his hand rested on her stockings for moments longer than what was necessary.

Lyanna shivered, this time from more than just the cold.

Rising from the ground, he nodded his head and then turned back towards the direction that he'd come from. She was free to go, she could walk back to Greyshaw, but that was a long hike.

With his back turned, he crunched through the snow, pulling his cloak up tighter around his neck, his hand tingling.

 _He'd done what he came for, nothing more_ , he reasoned with himself.

"Niklaus!" his name echoed out through the little village, homes shut up in the early hours of morning, families still asleep.

He thought he may have imagined it, when she continued, "Can I ride with you back?"

He turned slowly. It was the only practical option there was for her. But Lyanna was never practical when it came to Niklaus. She'd rather trek shoeless over the Siberian dead lands than accept anything from him.

She looked at him hopefully, snow falling against her dirty cloak. She looked like a vagabond, but a beautiful one, nonetheless.

Waving his hand, he answered, "Well hurry, I'm not going to stand out here all morning waiting for you, Lyanna."

The small smile that spread over her face, was more than enough thanks than he needed. On no uncertain terms should they be okay with where they stood: the water between them blood red.

But as she rode back to Greyshaw Manor with him, they came to perhaps a semi truce, for just that short ride as both tried to think of anything but the other, the entire way home.

* * *

 

Although Lyanna had made it home that morning, the solution to her problem wouldn't be as simple as Klaus swooping in and compelling a few officials. That it had only bought her a few days. Little did the Mikaelsons or Lyanna know that her case had spread much further than the Hundred Courts. Frank pledge law was superseded by the Parliament whom was already well abreast to the developments in their area, intending to all along to make an appearance in Dumbarton for her hearing. So when it was suddenly dismissed without cause, or substantial proof, despite the Chief Pledge and Sheriff's protests of Lady Lockwood's innocence the King's council became increasingly interested in deaths that took place on the Lockwood Lands and in particular the accused. The local people would not be satisfied until someone paid for the alleged crimes. And unfortunately for Lyanna the wolves had much greater public support than her.

News of an official from the Parliament came to Greyshaw along with an invitation.

"What is it?" Katerina questioned excitedly.

"I don't know." A package at been left in their drawing room, next to Lyanna's stack of books.

A wooden box, with a letter resting on top, it was missed for most of the afternoon until Katerina had pointed it out.

Turning over the letter, it was addressed to Lyanna in handwriting that was unfamiliar. When she broke the seal, another letter, packaged with the first slipped out onto her lap. Picking it up she examined the precise calligraphy, eloquently scrawled across the expressive formal parchment.

"Well do not leave in suspense, Lyanna. Who is it from?" Lilly coaxed.

"The Mikaelsons," she answered handing the invitation to Katerina.

"A ball," her face lit up. "Lyanna, this is an invite for us to attend a ball at Harte Manor in three days... Three days! Lyanna what will we wear?"

She ignored the girls, moving on instead to the original letter. Something as formal as a ball seemed not only out of place for the brothers but sudden. However upon reading the letter, that was unsigned she realized immediately why they had such a sudden urge for festivities.

"They are hosting a member of the Parliament," Lyanna answered, as if either of women cared or knew what that meant. To the girls, they understood it as an occasion for them to have dresses fashioned, to wear pretty trinkets and dance with attentive men. For Lyanna it only meant one thing, her problems were far from over.

Not that she was surprised. Nothing in life would be as easy as a simple conversation (compulsion or not) eliminating all of life's worries. She knew the wolves wouldn't give up so easily, she was only waiting for their next move.

The author stated in no uncertain terms that the member of the King's Council was there to investigate her. As a friend of the King's the Mikaelsons would host the liaison and as the person under scrutiny it would be in Lyanna's best interest to attend and appear as charming and non- threatening as possible.

To deny the invitation would as good as an admission of guilt in the public's mind. If she did not attend she would appear as if she were hiding out- had something to fear and therefore a reason for avoiding social situations that included a members of the King's authority.

If she went, she'd spend the entire evening being the bud malicious gossip, outlandish accusations while being stared at like bug for inspection. All those things she could easily handle, but going to that home, knowing what she did now about Lord Harte, her mother and having to deal with other things- Niklaus and Elijah type things that she'd rather avoid seemed an miserable task.

"What is in the box, Lyanna?" Katerina pointed to the thing resting in her lap, interrupting her reading, mid sentence.

Looking down she held up her finger, "Give me a moment." Soon after the explanation for the ball, the warning of the Parliament, there was small paragraph about the contents of the box. It read:

_When we arrived at Harte Manor most of the former Lord's belongings had been removed. This was amongst the remaining personal effects. Upon inquiries to workers of the Manor, it was discovered that it was a belated wedding present from Lord Harte to Lady Lockwood that was never bequeathed before his untimely death._

_Please accept that following gift from the late Lord Harte and our apologies for not delivering it sooner._

Lyanna's hand shook as she opened the box. Her father had meant to give something to her?

Inside was a gold chain decorated with an uneven baguette cut piece of amber.

"It's beautiful. Who is that from?" Lilly questioned, taking it from her hand.

"A belated wedding gift from the late Lord Harte," Lyanna answered a little overwhelmed with the gesture, both that her deceased father had intended her to have it and that Elijah (she assumed) was thoughtful enough to make sure that she received it, its value, unbeknownst to him, priceless.

"Did Elijah send this to you?" Katerina asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"It didn't say."

"I am sure it was," Lilly replied, handing the necklace to Katerina who examined it, her skin turning hot with jealousy.

"That was very thoughtful of him," she finally added, her tone somewhat reserved as she handed it back to Lyanna.

"Yes, it was." But wouldn't that be just like Elijah, to be so considerate? She'd have to find a way to thank him.

"Lyanna, can we have our dresses made?" The two women looked up at her hopeful. Lilly secretly could not wait to see Kol again. She almost missed him invading her dreams and had considered discontinuing the Vervain- considered, not done.

Katerina would not wish to miss any opportunity where she could display herself in public and truthfully she needed the excuse to see Elijah for he had been trying to avoid her as of late.

Lyanna dreaded the idea of a ball but nodded and smiled for the girls' sakes. If she was going to go before the member of the Parliament, she would need to make an excellent impression. Brushing her hair to the side, she clasped it her amber around her neck where it would stay until just before she died.

* * *

 

When they entered the home a smile had spread across Lilly and Katerina's faces as glanced around at the other guests arriving. Brushing snow from their shawls and hair, removing heavy cloaks and furs they whispered to one another, their excitement palpable. For days, Lyanna heard nothing but talk of what they'd wear, the gowns they had fashioned and made.

Looking around the great entry way of the Manor, Lyanna couldn't help but feel a pain of sadness. This was the home her father had once live in, where her mother had wanted her to be raised. All of this should be hers. Fingering the amber strung at her neck, she had to remind herself that all that was gone now and to hold on would be pointless.

Had Lyanna not been lost in a sea of thoughts and questions, she would have noticed that they were being watched, the three of them. Country life was much different than that of court. Here women were married young, in birthing beds shortly after and often haggard and old before their time. Three young, attractive women of some means, unspoken for was a rare thing. The male guests took notice, admiring them.

Katerina, immediately aware that she had an audience, was quick to smile, use every inflection she'd honed and perfected. Lilly who had an honest charm, was herself and was all that much more welcomed for it. Lyanna, as usual was either oblivious or too caught up in other pressing, periphery matters.

"They've arrived," Elijah murmured, leaning close to Klaus, interrupting him as he spoke with a female guest. She was attractive and young, her ample breast suggestively pushed tight against the cut of her gown. Klaus could smell the blood running through her veins, the desire in her voice, it made him hungry but nothing else.

Smiling, he excused himself, draining his wine, preparing himself for the night ahead. Yes, the ball served a purpose, the Parliament was there, investigating the happenings in their area. It seemed their little war with the wolves, rather Lyanna's war, had surpassed the Hundred Courts and had now fallen to the king's attention. Yes, there was a purpose for this evening, but as soon as he turned all those issues floated into the periphery.

X

Immediately aware of Lilly, smelling her before he even heard the timbre of her voice, Kol had pushed his way through the pack of male suitors that had begun to cluster around the ladies of Greyshaw before Elijah was even alerted of their arrival.

Young and attractive, hailing from west of Scrathclyde, Emil Wellington held Lilly's wrist in his hand, turning it over, kissing both it and her palm, very familiar and unwelcomed as far as Kol was concerned.

Lilly was quite overwhelmed with the attention enjoying their lavish pandering when a throat cleared behind the eager gentleman.

"If you will excuse me," Kol started, a menacing looked passing from him to the surprised admirer. Bowing his head, he requested a dance from Lilly later, before he left.

"That was rude," she commented, as Kol slipped his hand possessively against her lower back.

Leaning in, his lips were hot and not subtle against her ear, "He was bothering you."

Lilly pulled back, exchanging a cold glare with Kol, "He was doing nothing of the sort, I was perfectly content with his company."

"See I would tend to disagree."

"Oh you would?" Lilly was somewhat aghast at his blatant jealousy. It was out of character.

"Yes," he answered, handing her glass of spiced winter wine, "You can deny it all you wish Lilly Lockwood, but you and I are both well aware of your feelings."

"Feelings?" she laughed mockingly. "And what would these said, 'feelings' be?"

Leaning in closer, the inflection of his voice sent chills down her spine, "I think we both know the types of feelings I am speaking of: warm, wet, sinful, lust ridden ones."

"I think you are mistaken," she answered her voice faltering slightly.

As the guests moved into the main ballroom, drinks in hands, music filtering out through the halls, he grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the pack that shuffled forward. Just out of sight, her back pressed against the frame of the nearest doorway.

"I can smell you, darling." how he made something so crude, sound so inviting, Lilly would never know. His hands inched closer to her hips, when her wine glass blocked him.

"Perhaps Lord Wellington, can smell me as well," she shot back, shocking in her sweet vulgarity. "And I am almost positive his manners are much better," she stepped just out of his grasp.

"Lord Wellington is a fool full of pretty words," Kol griped.

Looking back over her shoulder before she turned the corner to fall back in line, Lilly answered, "Sometimes a lady likes to treated as one."

X

Courtesy would call for Elijah to go to Lyanna first. But instead he sought Katerina, knowing that his brother had some unfinished business with Lady Lockwood and would prefer not to have his presence interfere.

Katerina, surrounded by Lords, attracting even the member of the King's council, called out to him as if he were the only man in the room, "Lord Mikaelson." Excusing herself from the group of men, she came to him, face beaming as if he'd lit the world for her.

"I was hoping you would ask me for a dance."

"Is it not the man's place to ask a Lady?"

Katerina looked at him, all eyelashes and demure smiles. Wearing a rich red gown, the color of wine, her hair pulled back and a jewel (borrowed of course) at her throat, she looked beautiful as always.

"Some men never ask," she retorted, grinning suggestively.

"I am almost positive you do not encounter that problem." Elijah detested games. They were beneath him. He was not a child or a human male, willing to be baited and strung along. But with Katerina, everything was different.

"You would be surprised."

"I would?" he questioned, eyebrow rising, playing right into her hands, knowingly.

"Elijah?"

"Yes, Katerina?"

"Must I beg, because if you ask nicely I may be so inclined."

"Are you not concerned that you may upset your male suitors?" he asked mockingly.

"What males? I only see one and it would seem that it is _I_ trying to court your favour," her hand found his arm. So simple, but the look she was giving him was enough to magnify its effects. Elijah was not a fool. He knew she was leading on him, Niklaus (like she could), Trevor and any other man who may be willing to fall into her trap.

However, the more he denied her, the more intense her interest became, making it impossible for him at times to feign indifference.

Relenting, he took her glass from her hand, setting it down alongside his own, "Then you should know that you have won it, for this evening."

X

"They are 12th century," he commented from behind her.

She turned from where she was looking up at the large oil painting, in awe, like a child at its complexity to find Niklaus. Her stomach clenched, a strange mix of dread and anticipation colored with the faint twinge of desire, the latter she'd rather not acknowledge.

"Who is the artist?"

He had been watching her stare at his painting for minutes. Mayhaps all artists felt that way when someone viewed their work or perhaps they became immune. She studied it like it had some key to the universe. All of it gave him a heady rush of excitement.

But it was more than just feeling appreciated; it was the way she looked. Last time he'd seen her, she'd been covered in dirt exhausted, trying to hide her fear but still comely as ever. Now she stood in front of his landscape, blonde hair hung loose, in thick curls around her shoulders. In comparison to the other women who wore intricate braids and things adorning their hair, Lyanna looked fresh and natural.

Effortless was the kind of grace that she had. Her emerald dress swayed as she looked back to the painting. He smiled, watching her hand instinctively touch the amber necklace that hung from her throat. The one she most likely thought was a gift from her father. But in all reality was one of the few things, Niklaus had kept over the years. It gave her comfort, which was all that mattered, even if that comfort was in the form of a lie.

She wore it, proudly, paying subconscious attention to it throughout the night, giving him a kind of satisfaction he hadn't felt in quite some time.

"Me."

Her eyes drifted from the pastoral scene, to him in awe.

"You? It's beautiful."

"It was of our home, long ago."

A scene of sprawling landscapes and dense forests, it looked similar in some ways to Greyshaw Manor.

"And where was this?" she hadn't spoken to him in days, not since he'd found her like a gutter rat, tether on a dirt floor, waiting whatever fate she was soon to meet. She was almost embarrassed, ashamed of herself that she had never thanked him.

If she had acted on instinct in those last moments between them perhaps she would have slapped him hard across the face, for his assuming that she would need him to save her and then quickly kissed him, squeezing the air from his lungs because in all actuality she most likely would have been waiting at the bottom of a dank hole for the executioner's blade if he hadn't intervened.

"Italy, miles outside of Venice."

"Is that where Rebekah is now?

He stiffened at her mention of his sister, Elijah's loose tongue never ceased to amaze him, "Yes," he lied because he had no clue where Rebekah may be hiding.

"Seems strange…."

"What is that?"

"That she would not choose to stay with you and your brothers."

"She has other interests," he answered somewhat curtly, flustered by the mention of his sister.

Lyanna looked away from the painting, "Yes, well eternity is a long time to be alone," before she turned her gaze back over to the calm meadows and dark forests painted before her. Forests where he'd once taken Hannah; where he had almost fed on her before he had abused her, where he had tried to train her, only to have been deceived. The thought of Hannah brought back that nagging feeling or maybe it was just a familiar pain that always accompanied Lyanna's presence.

She was right. Eternity was a quite a long time to be alone and no one was more aware of this than himself. Was this part of the curse? Is this why she could read him so well? Was it the reason that Lyanna knew his every weakness, vulnerability?

"I guess that would depend on how you spend it," he replied.

"And how do you choose to spend eternity?" she questioned.

 _Not alone,_ whispered through his mind. "Many ways… and you?"

It took little thought, she replied confidently as if she'd known he'd ask all along, "With someone I loved."

He looked down to his glass.

"Love," Niklaus snickered, "That is the best you can do?"

Taking a sip of her wine she looked back to the painting and then to him, her blue eyes magnetizing his attention, as she sighed, "Oh, Niklaus, love is the best any of us could do. If you had ever been you would know."

"How do you know I have not?" the way he looked at her caused all kinds of repressed thoughts to resurface, the time he'd kissed her in the cemetery, even in this very home, his hands on her in the abbey, the way he looked at her when he'd found her bound on a dirt floor.

"I only assumed."

"Assumptions can be a dangerous thing," he answered into his wine glass.

"And where is this great love of yours Niklaus? Is she alive?"

Great love? What had he professed to this woman? Perhaps he had already drank too much or it had been too long since he'd last fed.

Tatia's face flashed through his mind, but the feeling that was there before had dulled considerably, the thought of her no longer invoking pain or regret.

Then what had he thought he was speaking of? The longer she waited for his reply, the more feverishly he searched his mind for an answer until finally he swallowed, warmed by either the liquid or her intense gaze, "Never far…."

What did he mean? Klaus hardly knew. Setting down his goblet of wine, he watched as her eyes followed the guests making their way to the ballroom. Picking up her skirts she turned to him, "Fortunate woman."

It was most definitely probably meant as a slight, sarcastic, but as Klaus watched her go, his mind filled with thoughts of Lyanna, he answered to himself unknowingly "No, I fear she is not."

* * *

 

As the music began they fell in line. Katerina looked at Klaus then back to Elijah. His brother smiled at Lyanna. Kol glared at Lord Wellington who devilishly winked at Lilly, eliciting a blush. Lyanna looked to Elijah and then the floor, purposely avoiding Klaus's none too subtle gaze.

First round, they stepped together, hand on hand circling one another.

Kol's partner laughed trying to engage him in conversation as they turned, circling in the opposite direction.

"Hmm?" he replied, half listening, straining more to catch every word passing between Lilly and Emil.

He could hear them, four partners away, see him leaning in closer than what the dance required, his hand sliding down her wrist, "You are beautiful, do you know that?"

And she was exquisite in fact, dressed in a strange faceting of black and deep violets. Her dark hair adorned, half braided, the rest scaling down her back.

Kol could have vomited as he rolled his eyes. "Please!" he felt like shouting out above the racket of music. Could he be any more obvious? But as they made the last quarter turn before separating again, and his hand found Lilly lower back, Kol became decidedly less amused, skipping past annoyed to completely disgusted.

X

"Lyanna," Elijah looked down at her, in his soothing way, the one that made her wish nothing else other than to crawl into his embrace, discuss her every problem and issue with him as he listened patiently.

"Elijah," since her incident at the lake and the knowledge that he had told Niklaus- betraying her, she'd been more distant that ever. But it was hard to distrust Elijah, no matter how unsavoury his actual intentions could have been. Part of her didn't wish to make the connection between the man that had written her all those letters to the one that would leave her at Niklaus's mercy.

He looked down at her keen and panegyrical, "I've missed you."

It was out of character for him to so quickly confess something like that, without thought- so impulsive, but he meant every word. The ease that had been between them before, the understanding, it was now strained, clouded with Klaus's warning and new muddled feelings. He was laden with his guilt of both thoughts of Katerina and the knowledge of what was to come. She, in return, was distant with what he could only assume were feelings of betrayal and overriding suspicion.

 _In a simple world,_ Lyanna thought. If none of the past couple of weeks had happen. If he was just a man and she was just a woman, no Niklaus or Katerina, they could live forever together in perfect harmony and bliss: so natural, their understanding and appreciation of one another.

But life was complicated. Lyanna had a mounting stack of regrets and unknown to her, Elijah had his own dilemmas. Both smiled at one another in perfect contentment as their demons stayed at bay-Niklaus and Katerina partners away.

Temptation, desire, lust, it was the worst of all evils.

"I've missed you as well," she replied, even though he didn't deserve it, nevertheless it was true.

X

Back straight, hair sliding over her shoulders, exposing pert breasts and a look under heavy dark eye lashes, Katerina wasted moments trying to draw him in.

"Klaus..." as they came together, making their first turn, she was making effort to snare his attention, lust, affection. None of them were working.

He'd taken her to his bed and not spoken more than a few words to her afterward, as if they had shared a drink from the same glass, had only a casual friendship.

"Katerina," he answered curt, flat, and expressionless.

Perturbed by his lack of enthusiasm, she followed his gaze, which had settled on Lyanna and Elijah. They always looked the perfect couple; it was galling in all truth. She could tell that he was saying something to Lyanna. Undoubtedly it was undeniably sweet and considerate as Lyanna smiled, warm and inviting, leaning a little closer.

Katerina felt a hot, deep, flash of jealousy. Why couldn't Klaus ever look at her that way? Why did Elijah not spare such beautiful words on her? In fact Elijah never spoke to her that close: so familiar and welcoming.

They may have been palm to palm, circling each other, imitating that either cared for the other but Klaus and Katerina's thoughts couldn't be further away.

" _I've missed you,"_ echoed throughout Klaus's mind making him stiffen with Lyanna's response. Somewhere, layered under years of trained indifference, the most childish form of him wanted to snicker, laugh at Elijah.

Pretty words and lovely gestures he may have. He could write her thousands of letters, recite her dozens of poems, but Klaus knew what she felt like wet, moaning encouragement. He knew the smell of her excited, wild, the sounds she made before she finished.

Katerina watched Elijah look at Lyanna with complete acceptance, the ease at which they exchanged conversation, their affection; it itched away under her skin. He was never that way with her. And why not? Had she not tried? Was she not just as pleasing? Was Katerina not just as beautiful or more?

The atmosphere between Katerina and Klaus could have boiled water. Their focus honed in with muted jealousy, petty thoughts about a person whom seemed to want to have nothing to do with them and the other who had everything they wanted.

When the second stanza of the dance began, a turn before they aligned again, Klaus took his opportunity. As Kol grabbed Lilly's hand, thwarting Lord Wellington's efforts, Klaus stepped into line across from Lyanna.

X

"Truly, Lilly is beautiful the best he can do?" Breaking the rules of the dance, Kol had placed his hand on her back as they circled.

"Are you jealous Kol?"

"Me, jealous, of that classless fool? Please…" he scoffed.

"I think he's sincere, sweet and very kind."

"You would think that, Lilly. He is playing you, like a fine tuned instrument."

That turned her mouth hardening with embarrassment, "Is it so hard to believe that someone else may find me desirable?"

That was not the point he was trying to make. But for a brief moment Kol thought of answering yes. Mayhaps then she'd stop this foolish little game she was playing with him- attempting to make his jealous… like he could be jealous.

But he was, pathetically so.

"No, any man that has eyes and pulse would clearly want you," Kol snapped, "But any man here would be capable of going about it in a less fawning manner."

"Oh, really and what would they say instead?" she shot back, trying to brush his hand from her back, but Kol was unrelenting.

He leaned in close, "They would tell you that you have the face that could rival Helen of Troy, the temper of Hades, a body that would make Aphrodite jealous and breasts…."

If anyone else could have heard their conversation, Lilly would likely be shamed to no end. Instead she smiled, knowing that he spoke low enough that they were in their own little world.

"What about my breasts?"

"I cannot be sure, it has been a while since I have seen them last, but artists should stop wasting time on poetry about good and evil, god and the meaning of life, and dedicate volumes to your breasts instead."

The way he looked at her made her thighs slick and regrettably she knew he could tell. She could never hide anything from him, "How can you make the most lewd things sound endearing?"

"A gift, surely," he smirked.

Closing her eyes, she refocused her thoughts, away from Kol's hands, memories of the thing he'd done that morning in the forest ,"Perhaps I seek Emil's company because he is vocal about his feelings, freely so and without shame."

"Are you saying you would like me to be clear about my intentions?"

"Yes."

"All of them? Because if it would please you, I will stop the orchestra right now and announce to the entirety of our guests every dirty thought I have ever entertained about you. I could describe in elaborate detail all the things I intended to do to you some day."

He could hear the blood rushing through her veins, "I'd rather have one word of sincere caring, than thousands of your complimentary laminations on lust."

What more could she possibly want? Did he have to scream it about the countryside? This is why Kol never bothered with women long term, human, witch, vampire or wolf. They could never just be satisfied.

"One word?"

"Yes," she challenged, unwilling to fall prey to his devious thoughts.

Damn he hated that she was making him do this.

"Peace…" he whispered, watching as her face softened, making him feel both light that he'd pleased her and nervous that he had divulged too much, "And misery…. Sorry that was two."

X

"Do you love her?"

Elijah had been avoiding her gaze from the moment they were paired across from one another in the line up. She could have went about it a more subtle way, had some build up, led him into her impertinent question, but Katerina was never one for subtleties when she wanted answers.

"I thought we discussed this," Elijah answered somewhat neutrally.

"We did? Then you must refresh my memory."

"I do not believe in love, Katerina."

"Do you not, because you are surely making an excellent impression of it with Lyanna."

She tried not to sound bothered but it was obvious that she was, her skin pinking slightly as they stepped to the side, his hand on her arm.

"Is that so? And tell me dear Kat, why are my intentions of your concern? Do you love my brother?" he was almost afraid to hear her answer. Elijah had his suspicions about Katerina, that she'd taken Klaus to bed or rather him, her. The last thing Elijah would allow to happen was a repeat of Tatia. They had grown since then. They were not immature youths, willing to be naively manipulated by a woman.

Little did he know it was too late, for both he and Klaus were already too far down that road, in more ways than one, to turn back now.

Katerina faltered, ready to spit out some other rash haughty line, when his question stopped her short. At one time, she may have thought she loved Klaus. Had she not allowed him to crawl between her thighs? Use her any way he pleased? Had she not professed love when she was in his bed?

That was before she had all of these confusing feelings for Elijah. How a family of brothers could contort her so, she'd never know. She may have thought she felt something for Klaus but she wanted Elijah, like she'd never wanted anything before. And she'd be damned if she let anyone or anything stand in her way.

Katerina loved Lyanna, would be forever be grateful for all that she had done for her, but in times like these a woman had to look out for her own best interests.

"No, love cannot be real if it is not returned."

"And so you fear that you are not in love because you believe that Klaus does not return your affection?"

That was wounding, Katerina's jaw clenched. Unable to admit defeat in anything Katerina answered, cleverly, "No, I would not claim love for I do not love your brother."

This was a change, one he was not prepared for. Katerina's pursuit of him was strange in nature, that a woman should want him, seek him out as she was doing, it was difficult to refuse, especially when he felt the same.

"You have not answered me, do you love Lyanna?"

As they rounded the next turn, he answered, innocuously, "I thought I was clear, I do not love."

"Then you must care for her deeply."

"And why would you say that?"

Katerina looked to Lyanna who danced with Klaus.

"You do not look me as you do Lyanna."

"And how is that?"

"Like you wished nothing more that to lose yourself in her and never return."

Of all the words he could have used to describe Katerina, perceptive would not have been one. But in this instance, her observation was unnerving in its accuracy. Elijah would never say it out loud, over the next centuries, as the division between he and Klaus only widened becoming so deep Elijah would fear it couldn't be repaired, he'd never admit how sincere his affection for Lyanna actually was or how deeply he cared for her. Perhaps because it was the origin of his and Klaus's separation only venomized further with the disappearance of Katerina.

"What do you wish me to say, Katerina?"

She wanted him to tell her that it was an affection of convenience, nothing like the desire he had for her. Katerina wanted him to confess that he thought of her, wanted her as much as she did him. And that whatever denial he'd had before about what had already begun between them, he would be willing to set aside.

She wanted him to look at her the way he did Lyanna and say the things she needed to hear.

"The truth."

"What truth?"

"That you think of me as much as I do you."

Bold, she was always so unashamed about everything she did. Elijah admired it, her willingness to always run headlong into everything without fear of consequence.

He was falling for it and although he was aware that this was where she'd meant to lead him all along, somewhere he shouldn't be, he feel right in line, "I would be lying if I said I did not think you often Katerina."

She looked at him as if she wanted to stop right there, in the middle of the floor and kiss him in front of a hundred prying eyes, "And I would dishonest if I told you I hadn't hoped you'd say that."

X

She looked up, surprised. Trying to hide the flustered look on her face, she glanced at the ground before they advanced toward one another.

Palm to palm, wrist to wrist, he was closer than what was deemed appropriate.

"Lyanna..."

She wasn't timid in her avoidance; she was simply a creature with a strong sense of preservation. As soon as their eyes met, all she could think of was a blur of images, his hands in places they shouldn't be: rosary beads clicking against wood and the look on his face when she walked away.

They were playing with fire. If he were human he may have known better. Being a predator for so long, had ruined his sense of peril. Strings fraying in the complicated plot he'd weaved and instead of tying them off, reassessing the situation, he kept cutting the ends, allowing them to only unravel further. He should have known, everything from the Vervain, her troubles with the wolves, the Hundred Courts and now the threat of a plea to a member of the Parliament. What had been a periphery issue, the hunter, was now becoming the bane of his existence.

She knew she had a claim on this land, everything. Lyanna had an impenetrable alibi to corroborate her story with the King- her priest. If she so chose, she could easily make her case known, usurp their Lordship, distancing him from the doppelganger even further. He shouldn't have invited her, however if she wasn't in attendance, it would only further drive the curiosity of the King's liaison, perhaps prompting another full trail, where she'd likely be found guilty. If Lyanna died, his plan would become difficult to execute. Outmanoeuvring and protecting the hunter was becoming an increasing complicated task.

If he was wise he would have sent in Elijah. Yes, she always liked Elijah better. He could have left his brother to watch Lyanna, ferret out her intentions, while he put out the fires that were sprouting up, all over, wild and spreading.

"Niklaus?"

He could attempt to compel the King's advisor, so he'd dismiss her case, if she brought it forth.

As they completed another turn, she nodded in the direction of a bystander.

"Is the member of the Parliament?"

"Yes."

Then again perhaps she was more concerned with his looming evaluation than plotting ways to defeat the pack. If not, he could kill the priest and therefore her creditable source. But had she told anyone else? That witch, Lilly, Katerina? Who else knew besides the priest?

"Why do you never refer to me as Klaus?" they stopped, changing direction in the turn.

"Is that not your given name?" he could smell her, that fascinating mix of rose water, lavender oil and he could have sworn lemon.

He didn't answer, thoughts of the last time his nose pressed into the veil that covered her hair coming to mind, along with other places he'd like to bury his face.

"People should be called what they are."

 _Shall I call you Lucifer, then, sweet Lyanna?_ he thought, for every time he was around her, plans seemed to fall apart. Decided actions seemed to deviate in intentions as his mind would wander down dangerous paths.

 _Niklaus,_ the sound of it brought up memories, a family, them all together long ago: thoughts of Rebekah, his mother, Henrik, Mikael and Tatia.

Things he didn't wish to remember.

"I want to thank you for what you did…" he could have let himself revel in his little moment of false chivalry if she hadn't finished, "Although I'm sure you had your reasons," ruining the moment with her truths.

"Could I not act out of charity and not have a motive behind it?" he questioned, knowing she was right. Lyanna was always right, easily able to sift through whatever false charm he was attempting.

"No."

"And why is that?"

"Charity would indicate feelings for another, concern. And I do not think you are capable of caring for someone other than yourself." The words that dripped out of her mouth could be as sweet as sugar, lulling him into a sense of false comfort and other times, they were as acrid as poison. So sharp they'd cut through the first outer layers of his shield before he'd even felt the laceration.

And incorrect, how right she usually was, but she could not have been more wrong in this situation. Mayhaps Niklaus's greatest fault was that at times he cared a little too much. In all the wrong ways, unable to express himself naturally, appropriately, always smothering out of fear, whatever he meant to keep close.

"I did not know you thought so lowly of me."

"And what did you expect?"

"Perhaps not all of us are always clear or vocal about our intentions, Lyanna."

"If you are not clear, then what would be the point in having intentions if they cannot be communicated and therefore responded to?"

She'd verbally cornered him, leaving Niklaus tongue tied. What did she want from him? A confession? What would he confess? That he planned to kill her, Katerina and Lilly? That it was all a lie, every act he'd committed that seemed as though it were perhaps for her protection?

Or did she want something more? At times her words were so clear, painfully so and other times, their meaning was so horribly recondite.

Did she want a confession that he cared? That he thought of her, much more than what was appropriate or even sane? That with all the knowledge that he had about who she really was, that Lyanna was a curse, not a blessing, in more ways than one, he still thought of her enough to make him question if he was hallucinating again.

Did she need him to tell her that every time Elijah touched her, it made him sick, irrational even, wanting to kill them both to just be done with it?

Perhaps she wanted it all, as Lyanna always seemed to but he couldn't give her any of it.

There was smoke in the air, danger, a poignant warning of the collapse that could and would come. But Klaus paid it no mind. He'd play with fire, thinking it was impossible to get burned. After all, was he not God? Could he not make his on fire, cause his own destruction if need be.

They separated without his answer weaving in and out of participants, switching with another couple, circling their new partners. Lyanna kept her eyes on the member of the Parliament, her dance companion and then him.

Klaus followed her throughout the room, as it were just them and to not do so would be rude. When they separated, to come back together again with their new partners, he quickly changed places with the gentleman she should have aligned with.

Predators... they often made the easiest prey.

He struggled to think of exactly what to say. He knew that he was running out of time. If he didn't say it soon it would be too late. And he'd wished that he'd done it.

Why? This whole thing was maddening.

Klaus wanted to tell that she looked beautiful, however that sounded, trite, overused and even weak.

"Quite a change from the tattered gown I saw you in last," that didn't come out right. Nothing he ever said seemed to come across correctly.

She looked up at him, unimpressed and unshaken, "Yes, it's hard to keep decent on a dirt floor."

"I thought you looked stunning, dirt and all," it may not have been what he had intended to say but it had the obligatory meaning behind what he'd meant as she responded with a strange look on her face, as if she were trying to not be affected by him.

"Niklaus..." she looked at him suspiciously, "Are you flirting with me?"

Was this a thawing in their cold war? He jumped at the opportunity. "Perhaps..."

"Do you flirt with all your victims before you torture them?"

Wicked humour or perhaps it was honesty, he could never tell with her. Niklaus smirked, "Only when they are deserving."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment? Should I have swooned?"

No, they were past that point. Swooning would have been a few kisses ago, before the abbey, the discovery of them being vampires. If he wanted her to swoon, he would have been gentle, less subtle, he would have been anyone but himself.

"No," he responded sincerely, "I apologize, if I had the words to describe how glorious you look now, Lady Lockwood, I would use them instead. Just the same, someone should tell you... even if it is just me. "

She looked up at him, whilst he was still trying to fight his way back from allowing himself to slip into pathetic again, looking at her a little too long, with a little too much desire. Control, it was running like water through the cracks of his hands.

Was he manipulating her or was she, him? It was unclear anymore as Klaus continued to allow himself to drown in ambiguity.

The mask of indifference she wore so well for him was slipping, as she looked at his lips, thinking of the last time they kissed.

Swallowing, she replied, "You look nice as well, when you aren't terrorizing those around you."

The music had begun to slow, there were only seconds left, as they the orchestra moved into the last few bars.

It came out quick, in a moment of desperation, "Do you wish for me to terrorize you, Lyanna?" It should have sounded more menacing. Instead it came off as more of a promise of a different kind.

They looked at one another, both clearly aware of all the things they weren't saying. She thought of it, the abbey, every time they kissed and every time they touched. All of it making her sick with guilt and lascivious thoughts.

"Too late... you already have."

Dropping his hand, he went to reach for it, to pull her back and finish their conversation, getting to the end he needed to hear: that she cared, could care, might have felt something as well and wasn't trying to forget. But his guest of honour interrupted, waiting for Klaus to announce him to the crowd, give the pandering human the recognition he was so pathetically desperate for.

* * *

 

She had led him away as Klaus made his speech introducing their guest. It was rude of him to leave, but when the door shut behind Katerina, he didn't care anymore.

He looked at her almost indifferently, or tried to. So this is what a little encouragement had bought him? She was practically predatory.

"Katerina, I am not interested in playing games."

"Then I won't ask you do so."

He had no notion of what she had planned, as she crossed in front of him, biting her lower lip, before she reached up on her toes, taking his chin in her hand.

Not willing to be led, Elijah pulled his head back when her lips were almost on his, denying her brazen advances.

Katerina fell back onto the balls of her feet, "I never knew you to so righteous about everything Elijah," she commented sharply.

"Perhaps you do not know me."

He could see that she was frustrated, trying to hide the fact that she was embarrassed by his rejection. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to leave, "You are not the only man in Strathclyde, contrary to what you must believe."

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back hard. Lips slamming against hers, his tongue entering her mouth, so much more forceful then what Katerina would have imagine. Roughly, his hands tugged at her hair, teeth lightly biting her lip- not enough to draw blood.

He didn't trust himself. A little blood and he'd likely fuck her until she passed out, feed from her until she was dry.

Her hands ripped at his tunic, sliding over cool skin. If Elijah was thinking clearly he would have let it stop at the kiss, but his hands were pulling at what seemed to be a dozen layers of silk under her dress.

When his hand hit the top of her thighs, his other, reached for the front of her gown. Tugging at the laces, he pushed her up against the door, dipping his head, sucking her nipple into his mouth, fingers tracing the outlines of her other lips.

"Is this what you wanted Katerina?" he murmured against her breast. Her small clothes were ruined. She'd spend the rest of the evening standing in uncomfortably damp cloth, smiling to herself, replaying it all a thousand times in her mind later when she'd touch herself again.

She brushed the outside of his breeches, finding him hard, rubbing herself in response against his hand in encouragement, tugging at his hair- pulling him up to kiss her again.

Without, further inspiration he moved the fabric of her small clothes submerging his fingers inside her. Katerina's head hit the door in a resounding thud, as she closed her eyes and smile.

Yes, this is what she wanted and more of it.

Finally untying the laces of his pants, she drew him out already knowing him to be ready. Her fingers running along the length of him, linger at the head.

Elijah buried his face in her neck, uttering a deep throaty appreciation as his forefinger traced her clitoris.

"Do you want me to have you Katerina?"

Her mouth dropped open, hips snapping against his hand, moisture sliding through his fingers as they moved inside her again, his thumb taking the place of his forefinger.

Katerina's other hand, moved down cupping him as she felt his teeth scrapping along her neck. How badly he wanted to bite her.

"Yes," she breathed, emphatically, picking up speed in stroking him as he did with her.

He sucked on her neck, the place just below her ear, loving every moment as she unwilling grinded herself roughly against him. She was close and he knew he was as well, shoving himself further into her hand.

Elijah pressed himself close her to her, Katerina's skirts pushed up well over her hips, her hand encasing him, hit her thighs slick with sweat and secretion, both his and hers now.

Surely, he'd finish her off. Fuck her hard enough against the large wooden door that the guests would be forced to stop in wonderment at the source of such a noise.

But Elijah was far more devious it seemed than Katerina had ever imagined.

"Not yet," he answered his teeth on her ear lobe, his cock pressed against her, inches from giving Katerina what she really wanted.

Continuing to thrust into her hand, toying with her to the point where she unashamedly pressed against him just as hard, he finished, "But when I do, rest assured..."

Katerina's lips were trembling, she was panting; ready to scream out as she contracted around his fingers. Quickly he removed his other hand from the door, where he had steadied them both, falling further against her as consequence as he covered Katerina's mouth- muffling her screams and other noises from the guests as he concluded, "You will never forget it." She shook and moved, full body now, snapping against him as she finished.

Moments later, he came, hot liquid sliding down Katerina's hand and arm, as she tried to catch her breath, both of them pressed against the door.

Calmly, Elijah took a few moments before he removed his hand, stepping back, lacing himself up, and straightening his appearance.

Katerina looked at him bewildered. How could he go from complete recklessness to polite pleasantries so quickly?

When he was sure, that his appearance was righted sufficiently he commented, "Come now Katerina, compose yourself. There are people waiting for us."

Holding out her hand, his semen dripping onto the stone floor, Elijah seemed unaffected reaching into his breast pocket, producing a handkerchief for her to clear herself off.

Taking it, Katerina wiped her hand down, before, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, fixing her hair.

This was an Elijah she'd never even imagined. Who knew something so dark and carnal lay under such a polite exterior?

"Katerina?"

She looked up, arranging her hair.

"You will not ever be intimate with my brother again. Do you understand me?"

She could have denied it, but the way Elijah said it was not accusing or malicious, just matter of fact.

"Yes."

A small grin shadowed his lips, "Are you ready, Kat?"

She nodded as he opened the door, allowing him to escort her back. The entire night he'd smile and talk politely with those around him, smug on the inside as he could smell himself on her from across the room- sure that Klaus could as well.

It may not have been intentional and even though Klaus couldn't have cared less, it was a clear message sent to Klaus. He'd stay away from the widow Lockwood, but Katerina was hence fair game.

* * *

 

Her skin burned hotter than any human. He could feel the blood quicken in the vein as she tugged at his material at his neck, pushing it aside, kissing every inch of exposed cold skin.

When his hands reached her small clothes, he could feel her clench in anticipation.

"Kol?"

He looked up at her as she hovered slightly above.

"Did you mean what you said?"

They were meant to hate one another. She was meant to be repulsed by him and him, her. At this point it was ridiculous to even ask. What did it matter anyhow?

He would live forever. And she would never change.

"What exactly was that?"

During the formal announcement of their guests, the men of court, the member of the Parliament, she could feel him take her hand from behind.

"Come with me, Lilly," he had whispered. She knew she shouldn't, that it was wrong, to defile herself before marriage was one matter but with a different species was an abomination.

"Please Lilly," he asked again and this time she relented. Subtly, disappearing behind the crowd of listeners, she followed him from the ballroom, down a series of dark halls until the sound of the guests was faint.

Shamelessly straddling him on their decadent London furniture, she looked down, answering, "Do you care for me, Kol?"

The expression dropped from his face. So this was her true question. What were his intentions? Hadn't he answered this before with his one- two word response? He could sense it, how desperately she needed him to say it out loud.

To him it was so embarrassingly obvious, but to her still such a mystery how he felt.

But if he wanted Lilly, he'd have to play in her world. No matter how foreign it may be. She wasn't some human he could screw, feed and leave. She was young, but she quite deft in her ability to corner him.

He tried to ignore the question, moving in, lips on her neck, hand pressing against her small clothes, he'd make her feel so good, show her the things he'd learned over the years that she'd forget whatever questions she had.

"Kol..."

It was so quiet that if she was human she wouldn't have heard it. But against her skin, eyes closed he relented and for the first time ever, even when he was human Kol admitted true, divine feelings, "Yes, I do."

Gone of bravado, it sounded so sincere it gave her all the confidence she needed to allow him to guide her down onto her back.

Tugging at her undergarments, he gave her a reassuring grin before he made the necessary arrangements. It was strange, after all the salacious things he'd done in his five hundred some odd years, he was slightly nervous.

It wasn't as if she were his first virgin. But this was different.

Opening the front of her gown, he kissed her breasts, sucking on each nipple, listening to her reaction, teasing her before he slid between her legs.

Kol had never been particularly gentle about anything in his life and there was no easy way to go about this. Entering her quickly, with all the satisfaction of a man that had waited long enough, his mouth dropped open in ecstasy.

"Lilly?"

Her eyes closed, she whispered, clearly in pain, "Yes?"

Leaning down on his elbows, kissed her lips, softly, his tongue outlining the bottom one, before he brushed hair from her eyes, "I promise it will get better."

And he was right. It did. As he began to move, Kol kissed her neck, nuzzled her jaw, reaching between them, rubbing her, trying to make it as pleasurable as possible- reconfirming earlier suspicions that he couldn't verbalize.

He had never been one for sincerity, of any kind. That was Rebekah, Elijah and Finn, he was too much like Klaus: the two of them a pair. Disgusted by any raw emotion that didn't include rage or some form of amusement.

But with Lilly, alone in the dark, the sounds of guests and music filling the silence of the empty room, he admitted for the first time caring beyond just simple amusement. It may not have been vocalized entirely, but Lilly knew all the same.

Kol wanted her in more ways than just this and needed her even if he wasn't willing to admit it.

It was the only time in his entire existence, where he was gentle, considerate. It was a concept quite new to Kol and overwhelming in its context.

All the things he'd heard in over the centuries, poets waxing about love, beauty, fulfilment, it all seemed like a ridiculous lie to him. Something people told themselves to feel better about their existence.

But as he covered Lilly with himself, listened to her breaths, buried his face between her jaw and the cushion behind them, he imagined that this was as close to content as he'd ever be for all eternity.

When it was over and he lay next to her, kissing her hand, shoulder, listening to the pounding of her heart, he felt a strange sense of calm.

Peace, there was only one other word that possibly could describe how he felt when he was around her, but he couldn't say it. It was too pitiful, but true. Belonging, it may not have made sense, they were from two separate worlds, of opposing interests but when he was with Lilly she made him feel for the first time in too long that he belonged somewhere and to someone.

"Lilly?"

"Hm?"

Maybe it was the post coital bliss that made him ask it, but in all likeliness it was fear, "Do you care for me?" As soon as it left his mouth he immediately wished to take it back. How pathetic he sounded. Centuries he'd lived on his own and now in a dark room with a female werewolf, whom he should be plotting to kill, he was possibly the most vulnerable he'd ever been in his entire existence.

If she rejected him, he might just kill the entire damn party. He couldn't be responsible for his actions.

Both staring at the ceiling of the dark room, she reached out for his hand, squeezing it, "Yes, of course I do."

He belonged to Lilly as she belonged to him.

Kol felt as if he had won the most epic battle of his life, a wide grin passing over his face, one of pure elation.

When she would have to leave sometime later, straightening herself, Kol pulled her in, kissing her before they'd have to separate. Only this time it was a little less demanding than usual and a little more sincere.

"I will see you soon. I promise," he told her.

When she turned to leave he grabbed her again, kissing her like a fool marching to his death.

"They will be wondering where I've gone," Lilly panted in between his lips and hers. When he refused to let go, she bit his lip gently, her venom seeping through. Immediately, Kol felt himself weaken a little, as her hand pushed him back against the wall.

Her tongue slid into his mouth, licking at his blood, nose nuzzling against his cheek.

"I'll see you soon," she replied before skirting away while he was in a moment of semi paralysis.

"Still a tease, I see," he called out, laughing.

Shutting the door behind her, Lilly fought the urge to go back in. She was ruined now, but when she left it didn't seem to matter as much because she knew he was too.

* * *

 

Lyanna need not seek out the King's adviser, he found her. Niklaus watched the lengthy conversation that look place, listening intently from a far. Not once did she mention Lord Harte or Father Hall. In fact Lyanna hardly had the chance to speak at all.

The wolves in the room, watched the interaction as well. Well dressed, pretending to converse with ladies and other Lords, their eyes leered in her direction, possibly getting the outcome they wished as the member of the Parliament informed Lyanna that her presence was requested in London. The king had no intention it seemed in letting this matter of the wolves and other disturbances on her lands go unaccounted for.

By the time, Klaus had politely exercised himself into their private conversation; every wolf in the great ball room was listening intently.

"I was just informing Lady Lockwood that King Henry requests her presence in London."

Klaus glanced around quickly, trying to gauge if it would be worth it for him to attempt to compel the man. However, before he could decide either way, the Regis member continued, "As well as yours Lord Mikaelson."

"Mine?"

"Yes, the disturbances that have taken place have been on both your lands and Lady Lockwood's."

"And has this issue not already been settled by the Freeholders' Courts?"

A stocky, balding man, he looked up at Klaus through bushy brows and answered tartly, "No, it has not. In fact this problem now supersedes the Hundred Courts and therefore is now in the hands of the King."

Lyanna looked at Niklaus then to Katerina whom remerged into the ballroom with Elijah.

"Any member of your house will do Lord Mikaelson, however the King expects you both in London before the week's end."

"The week's end? That would mean we would need to leave within a day's time."

"Yes it would seem that way."

He worried with the decree of the King's disciples that the issue between Lyanna and the wolves, their Hundred Courts was not resolved. He considered even that he'd sniff around, bore of such a meager issue and return to London with nothing to report. This however, was not something he'd expected.

To compel a few men, in a dusty tavern, members of the court, even parts of the Parliament was one thing. But now, the problem had spread too quickly, with too many people in the know, to resolve the issue quickly. There would be no way around it. Lyanna was going to London to answer for crimes which were not hers and it seemed a Mikaelson would be going as well.

* * *

 

"I will go," Elijah offered as the guests began to leave for the evening and Klaus apprised him of new developments.

Both knew they could not send Kol. He'd likely kill half of court for his own amusement at a whim. This situation required delicacy and a finesse, with both Lyanna being so close that she could reveal information that they did not wish to come out and their own status in Strathclyde.

They were too close to the full moon only weeks away to encounter any more bumps in the road.

"No, it will never work," Klaus answered. Since he'd informed Elijah of Lyanna's linage he'd worried that his brother's weakness for the widow had only worsened. However, that was not the reason why Elijah could not go.

Lyanna would be fearful of leaving Katerina and Lilly at a time like this. However taking them both to London could be disastrous for their plan. Perhaps she could be convinced to leave both ladies in the care and protection of the Mikaelsons if it was not for Klaus.

He was no fool. He knew she didn't trust him around Katerina. She had an innate sense of uneasiness in their proximity that Klaus was well aware of. She may not trust any of them implicitly but of the three, Elijah would be the only brother she'd consider leaving in care of the women.

"Lyanna will never trust Kol and I alone here with Katerina and Lilly. And we cannot afford to have her take them both to London this close to the full moon."

Although he had a point, Elijah didn't know if he trusted Klaus in the company of Lyanna alone. He'd likely fly into a rage and do considerable damage, kill her if he wasn't careful.

"Do we have any other choice?" he answered solemnly.

The look Klaus gave him spoke volumes.

"Then who will tell her? You or I?"

"You."

As he watched Elijah head towards Lyanna and Katerina, as they donned their heavy wraps and cloaks, preparing for the coach ride home, he was amused at the look that spread over her face as Elijah quietly brokered their deal.

She seemed to verbally put up a small fight before Elijah did whatever it was that he did that consistently calmed her. When he was sure that it was safe to intervene, Klaus approached.

"I guess you have heard the news?"

Looking to Elijah, clearly unhappy about the situation to begin with and even more so now, she replied, "Yes."

"What news?" Katerina questioned.

"I have been summoned to go to London by the King."

"You're going to court?" Katerina looked as if she'd die of excitement thinking she too would go along.

"Yes, but you and Lilly must stay here and watch over Greyshaw Manor."

Katerina opened her mouth to protest, when Lilly coming from out of nowhere took her hand, stifling her as she pulled her back, "Of course Lyanna."

"Are you going alone?" Katerina balked.

Lyanna's face hardened, her tongue wetting her lips in clear frustration, "No. It seems Lord Mikaelson has been summoned as well."

"Elijah?" Katerina looked at him disappointed.

"No, Niklaus," Elijah answered.

Then, Lyanna made eye contact with man that she'd be travelling with for the twelve days. Perhaps she should just confess to the murders and let it all be done with.

Although she understood Elijah's reasoning behind his proposal, however true his every assertion may be, she still would have much preferred his company, looked forward to it even. Surely death would be a more welcomed punishment then a week sequestered with Niklaus and his ever present stifling ego, fighting, and then choking back biting remarks.

Mostly she'd rather travel with the devil himself then spend that much time alone with someone she purposely was trying not to think of, dream about.

It would be long way to London and even longer way back.


	4. Heartbeats- We Were in Love

Both under influence  
We had a divine sense  
To know what to say  
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above  
to lean on  
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hand of the devil  
And you, kept us awake with wolves teeth  
Sharing different heartbeats  
In one night

We were in love...

Heartbeats- Jose Gonzalez

* * *

At the beginning of time, prior to the creation of earth, the solar system or mankind, there were only the heavens where Hashem ruled supremely and his angels obeyed without question.

Before his apostasy, Lucifer sat at the hand of the father, high and exalted, next in honor to the God's dearly beloved son. When his jealousy grew of Christ's ascendency over him, Lucifer's plot to excise Christ began.

In time, he cast himself from God's inner circle and his loyal servants, denouncing them all as slaves. In his stand he garnered support, appealing to a few select angels around him, flattering them with promises of power and succession over God and his son.

When the rebellion began the heavens were divided between those who stood loyal to God and those who sought new governance. To Lucifer they flocked, as their new leader made promises of the great new wonder they would share.

When God could no longer tolerate Lucifer and his followers' insolence in heaven, a great war broke out. Angel against Angel, God's army against Lucifer's regiment, the heavens were torn apart before God prevailed and the archangel Michael threw Lucifer from heaven.

As he fell in shame from his place of exultance, he took with him his followers who descended beyond the realm that would be earth and its universe.

However, before they took residence in their antiuniverse, Lucifer's minions mated with those who inhabited God's world, as a final insult. Defiling those whom were made in  _His_  image, they created a subset of species that were not angel, demon nor human. They fell beyond the spectrum of what was created by Hashem and imitated by Lucifer.

These new subspecies that evolved would go by many names: fairies, witches, sirens, werewolves, shape shifters and others. As they populated the world, it was decided that since these creatures would live amongst God's creations and were neither of heaven or hell but caught in between, they could not be claimed for either side in the battle for the souls of mankind. Instead each individual creature would choose.

Therefore as they survived amongst the humans, influencing all of those they came into contact with, it was proclaimed that these creatures could not be left to their own devices. If they were to play in God's world and choose their place among the evil or the saintly, they would need a leader- no rather, a governance of their own. So it was decided between God and Lucifer that an angel should be chosen, one who was neutral in the war over human souls. And that is how it came to be that Silas, as she would be known to every supernatural creature that scattered to the ends of earth's corners, would manage her new population of outsiders.

As Lucifer before her, she descended from heaven, shedding her wings as she fell. When she landed, well before the birth of Christ, the first world flood, David and (her subject) Goliath, Moses and his people, she came to be feared by all those who hovered on the outskirts of mankind. Many never knew who she was for they would encounter only her army of foot soldiers, those sent out into the world to watch over her creatures. But if at some point, if those under her watchful gaze should be stupid enough to step out of line, incite a war amongst themselves, influence the human lives too greatly or try to create a sub species of their own, then they would meet Silas and her justice.

Not many survived past that first meeting...

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

The morning they left it was bitter cold, frost clouding every window of the great manor.

"You will write as soon as you arrive?"

Lyanna tucked the loose pieces of her shawl into an intricate fold around her shoulders. She pulled on her gloves as a young woman of the house, placed her fur lined cloak on her back, tying it at the neck, adjusting the hood as Lyanna nodded, thanking her.

"Elspeth, by the time you would receive it, I will be back to say whatever would be written, in person."

The elderly woman looked past her, to Klaus who stood at the door, conversing with Elijah. The brothers' voices were so low that Elspeth couldn't decipher the conversation.

"As I said, you will write?" Elspeth repeated, casting a particularly indignant look in Niklaus's direction. Catching it, he nodded, smirking in return, goading her and enjoying every moment.

Shooting a wary glance in her traveling companion's direction, Lyanna answered, "Elspeth, everything will be fine."

"tiarna déan trócaire orainn." Elspeth had insisted that Lyanna take her own carriage. That it was improper for an unwed Lady to travel so far alone in the company of a man. More she pushed for Lyanna to stay as far away from Niklaus as possible. But in the end it was safer for them to travel together than apart, a point that Niklaus was quick to make and Elijah was slow to convince her of completely. (Lord have mercy on us).

Moreover, Elspeth may have been apprehensive about letting Lyanna travel with Lord Mikaelson but she was practically tachycardic when Lyanna invited both Elijah and Kol into Greyshaw Manor. On the grounds they may have been plenty of times, but never once had they set foot inside. The poor elderly woman had barely recovered when Lyanna quietly informed her that either one or both (depending on their preference- hers leaned towards Elijah) would be taking up residence in Greyshaw Manor in her absence.

In their current situation, as with Lyanna's travel plans, it may have been the most prudent action, but that didn't make the elixir any less bitter for Elspeth to swallow. She disliked them all, every single last Mikaelson. Two hundred years her people had lived on these lands amongst the wolves. Over five generations of loyalties, hard wired prejudices, were almost impossible to forget. Lyanna was no longer a child, however. But like every mother, Elspeth found it arduous to relinquish that maternal hold and allow her to make her own decisions.

"Are we ready?"

"Just one moment," she answered, attempting to gently disentangle herself from Elspeth.

"I will be fine, mo ghrá, promise."

Framing Lyanna's face with her hands, as if she were afraid it would be the last time they'd speak in years rather than a week, Elspeth begged, "Promise me you will go to service on Sabbath," then leaning in even closer, as if Niklaus, Kol and Elijah couldn't hear her regardless, she whispered, "Sleep with your rosary beneath your pillow." Lyanna could feel her forcing the beads into her hands, bringing back the kinds of images Elspeth was trying to prevent, but unbeknownst to her or anyone, had already regretfully taken place.

"Pray over your chambers when you arrive. Anoint the door with oils, to protect yourself," the way her eyes trailed in the direction of the brothers, made it clear whom she thought Lyanna needed protection from.

Kissing her mother's forehead, she replied, "Yes daor, I will."

Overhearing the entire exchange, a smirk twitched at the corners of Niklaus's mouth. It was such an old superstition, one he'd started not long after Hannah, more in mocking rememberance and it still held weight. The humans still though their God and the church repelled his kind.

Elijah shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat, giving his brother a discouraging, stern look.

Kissing Katerina's cheek, she reached for Lilly, pulling her into a tight embrace. It wouldn't matter how low she whispered her next warning, she knew Kol could hear it regardless, "Guard yourself, Love."

"We will be fine Lyanna," Lilly encouraged, knowing her sister's fear in leaving them.

"Lyanna..." Niklaus's impatience was not subtle in the slightest. Taking her parcel from Lilly, she kissed both her and Katerina one last time before heading for the door.

Outside, they crunched through snow coated dirt, her nose turning pink from the chill.

"Here let me assist you," Elijah offered, taking her by the elbow. With Niklaus already in the carriage, they stopped a few feet from where the coachman waited.

Slipping her fingers through the twine bound package, she retrieved a thick letter addressed to him.

"I want you to have this." How just like Lyanna to write him before she left. It had been weeks since they had shared this kind of communication. Their last, even semi private, encounter was at the ball where he'd told her how he'd missed her and then afterwards involved himself in a heated encounter with Katerina.

 _They are just humans,_ he'd told himself. But it didn't feel that way. They didn't feel as if they were expendable and his encounter with Katerina had left him knowing that in some way he'd betrayed Lyanna. That he'd been far less than honorable about the entire thing.

"And I wanted to thank you," she touched the chain at her neck, "For sending this to me."

He looked at her strangely, "I'm afraid I do not know what you are referring to."

"This necklace... the gift from Lord Harte. Did you not send this?"

"No."

Before she had time to think on the matter any longer, he interrupted, "You will be safe?" he didn't know why he questioned it. Klaus would sooner burn Harte Manor to the ground then let anything to happen to Lyanna and allow his plan to be ruined.

 _Klaus's plan._ He'd rather not think about that. Not with Lyanna's letter in his hand and her sincerity staring at him.

"I'll be fine."

He wanted to kiss her. It only felt natural, like the parting between a husband and wife. But he could feel his brother's eyes on him. Then again, since when had Klaus become the supreme law of the land?

Leaning in, he caught her off guard as he his lips pressed to hers and waited merely seconds for her to invite him even slightly further. To Lyanna it felt like the last piece of comfort she'd get before the longest, most charged journey of her life. Everything about them was strained but somehow she felt that she could trust Elijah still.

"Promise me, Elijah that you will take care of them." It wasn't Katerina and Lilly she should be concerning herself with. Rather it should have been her own well-being- traveling alone with Klaus. Elijah could only hope that neither would provoke the other and that his younger brother could keep his temper in check.

"I promise."

A throat cleared, as Klaus called from the inside, "Now that, that matter is settled, do you mind? We have a long journey."

Elijah plastered on a forced smile, "Of course," helping Lyanna into the carriage. Glancing at his brother he bid, "Safe travels," before thoughtfully nodding at Lyanna.

He hardly had time to say another word before Klaus leaned forward, slamming the carriage door shut, calling to the coachman, "We are ready."

The horses lurched forward with the crack of a whip, causing Lyanna's book to fall from the seat. Trying to find balance, she resituated herself before looking around for her parcel.

"Here," handing her the letters that fell from inside, she quickly took them from him. They were not even minutes into the laborious journey and she was already flustered.

"Petrarch's Canzoniere?" he commented, but she didn't answer, instead choosing to look anywhere but at him, before opening her book.

She certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him. He was almost amused that she had brought reading material, clearly making it known that she wasn't interested in conversation.

Leaning back, he considered being obnoxious and staring at her for the entirety of the trip. If she was going to be rude, should he not be rude in return? Humans and their little games- so boring and tedious as they were.

Minutes passed, Lyanna settled in for the trip, seemingly not bothered by his presence at all. The only noise in the small space, for a time, was the rustling of pages. Looking at the stack of letters resting in her lap, he wondered who they were to or rather from. He should have looked before.

Perhaps his brother? She'd exchanged a letter him only minutes before. And he was curious, what did she say to Elijah in these new letters after their little lie (one of many) was exposed? Did they still carry on with simple pleasantries or did they confess things like those he had overheard at the ball?

 _I miss you as well,_ she had said to Elijah. Missed him? Please, if she only knew. He could smell Katerina coated on his brother at the ball, like thin layer of oil. Did she miss Elijah when they were in abbey? Did she think of him when they kissed that day at Harte Manor?

He watched her toy with the amber that hung from her neck. His amber: the gift that he'd given her. The amber he had found when he was still human. At the time, part of a larger piece, he'd intended to give it to Tatia the night she'd told him they would never be together permanently.

Then, men gave gifts to those they intended to wed. Perhaps livestock to the woman's father, a portion of their crop for that season. Since Tatia had no father he had instead intended to gift her the amber. But he never did, as she denied his affections and refused his offer.

He should have tossed the stone. He should have left it in the pile of burnt rubble that was their human home. But he was never able to part with it. Perhaps he'd kept it all those years as a reminder of his stupidity.

A century ago, after Anne, the hunters and Hannah, he'd had the stone shaped and set; making a trinket that he'd intended to give Rebekah as peace offering. Something from the home he knew she missed: the life he knew she still desired. But it seemed that his sister might never forgive him for Alexander or Finn as she stayed hidden with Kol. How could she not know that he did it for her own good?

"'Libri quosdam ad scientiam, quosdam ad insaniam deduxere'," he commented nonchalantly, baiting her, hoping that she'd bite, (Books have led some to knowledge and some to madness).

Seconds passed in silence. Finishing her page, Lyanna flipped to the next, but not before answering, "'Stultorum ducuntur ad blis per ignorantiam'," without looking up. (Fools are drawn to the bliss of ignorance)

She was so impertinent that he could just strangle her and at the same time, he enjoyed the bite. "'I ate in the morning what I would digest in the evening; I swallowed as a boy what I would ruminate upon as an older man. I have thoroughly absorbed these writings, implanting them not only in my memory but in my marrow.' "

"You have read Petrarch, I take it?"

"'Shame is the fruit of my vanities and remorse, and the clearest knowledge of how the world's delight is a brief dream.' Yes, Lyanna... close to a century ago."

Finally acknowledging him, she made eye contact, "I thought you found reading to be trite?"

"No, I never said that. I do recall commenting that I thought Dante was trite... all that laminating over a lost love, hell and damnation... more pathetic in fact, than trite."

Lyanna shook her head disingenuously, before returning to her book.

"I take it you disagree Lady Lockwood?"

She shouldn't answer, Lyanna should politely ignore him. Nothing good could come from conversation. It would either end with them screaming at one another or doing other things that Lyanna would rather pretend never happened. Things she refused to admit that she thought about still, often- impossibly frequent. And worst of all, it might lead to a moment when he'd give her that look, the one she hated. It was the one that made her nervous; remembering feelings that she hadn't felt since she was six and ten, when Nathaniel was still alive and everything was still simple because her life was untainted.

"Yes."

Amusement shadowed his eyes, flickering through his expression, "In what way?"

He had expected some tart reply, had formulated a clever list of witty quips in his mind that were useless when her tone took a sharp turn from short to sincere, as she answered with a non sequitur.

"How long have you been alive?"

"A while..."

"How long is a while? It must be longer than a century for Elijah talks of Dante as if he has read him more than a hundred times. It would have to be longer than three centuries for your painting... you said it was from the 12th century."

She'd listened to him? Niklaus had thought she couldn't have cared less for any word that came from his mouth, if it didn't involve her precious little home, saving his doppelganger or proving him wrong.

He swallowed; giving her an indifferent glance as he internally tried to decide just how honest he could be, only to realize how much he'd already unknowingly revealed.

"Five hundred years..." As soon as the words fell from his mouth he felt an immediate need to take them back. Like coins scattering from a purse, he instinctually wished to quickly scurry and recollect them all before it was too late.

He expected shock, for Lyanna to be even slightly aghast, instead she simply replied, "'That is a long time to go without loss...'"

"We do not hold to things as you do."

Immediately her hand went again to her necklace, as if she were thinking of something in particular. In fact, he knew exactly what she was passing through her mind. If there was an impartial, all knowing third party present, the entire little scene would have been the clear depiction of situational irony: Niklaus claimed in so many ways to not feel loss, prompting Lyanna to cling to an artifact that proved him a liar in more ways than one, as she thought of her own tragedy.

"Then do you not feel? You obviously know hatred, smugness and the elation of superiority. But what of joy, sadness or love?"

She had the uncanny ability to corner him on topics he wished to not discuss. Outmaneuvering her inquisition, he fired back, "Is that love Lyanna- sadness?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, "And agony, bliss and bitter hatred. It is elation and every other spectrum of emotion imaginable."

He remembered it, every feeling that she'd described. Ones that had inspired a drawer full of sketches and what would be centuries of nightmares.

"Sounds like a foolish undertaking."

If only he knew.

He was giving her that look again. This is why she'd brought her book. This is why she considered traveling alone, chancing death on road- all in an effort to avoid these types of moments.

Letters... the letter. She'd written a letter to Elijah. She tried to hold onto solitary things in her mind. Emotions that although riddled with harbingers of a disastrous end, still seemed like prudent action comparatively.

She licked her lips in a most unlady like fashion, before continuing, "'I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods. I am in ecstasy and agony. I am possessed by memories and in exile from myself."

"'Memories of  _her_  and  _I_  am in exile from myself.'," he completed.

The subtext between them heavy as usual, there was a period of silence before Lyanna replied, "Love is supposed to be painful, Niklaus, for if it was not at some point, we would not rejoice in its adulation."

"So you claim that it was worth the burn?"

It was the way he said it, that made it perfectly clear that he was referring to her past, her late husband and the implosion she'd experienced, rather than a short manageable pain she had suggested earlier.

"Yes."

"Perhaps if you have lived longer you would feel differently."

He had told her that he'd loved or had hinted as much, but now he seemed to be trying to recant those words.

"Are you saying that you have not loved Niklaus or that you do not love?"

Neither.

He had loved and been burned and now without his acceptance was in the process of doing it again, "Love is a weakness, Lyanna. One I do not indulge."

It was then that she knew he hadn't been lying to her, only to himself. He may have believed that he had loved before and perhaps he did, but she had a strange feeling, rather a premonition, that he'd never known it in return.

The look she was giving him brought with it that uncomfortable sensation that always seemed to accompany Lyanna's presence. Quickly changing the topic he questioned, "Do you not ever wish to see these places, instead of reading of them endlessly?"

She smiled, "Yes."

"Then why not go?"

"Perhaps in another life?"

"And if it were this one, where would you go?"

"Persia, Rome, Paris, the Bulgarian States, Egypt, India, the Caspian Sea, the mountain east of ancient Babylonia, Siberia..."

Each destination she spoke of was accompanied with images that shuffled back and forth through his mind: Lyanna in the streets of Calcutta, knee deep in the Red sea, bundled as she looked out over the vast emptiness that was the frozen dead lands in wonder, awestruck as she traced the columns of the Roman coliseum that she'd only read about in books. Bending to touch the cobblestones where Persian kings once stood and her fascination as he told her of Constantine.

"You could go, Lyanna..."

What he thought was  _I could take you._ But before the realization set in that he wouldn't, that she'd never see any of those things she desired because in a few short weeks she'd be dead, Lyanna answered, "No, I couldn't."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Lilly, Katerina, Greyshaw- that land. She couldn't leave because she was tied to it.

"They would not need you to survive," because they wouldn't be surviving at all, soon enough.

"Perhaps I need them." That was a lie and he knew it. The land, the responsibility, those that waited for her, they were stifling, caging her in a place, a life, that was never supposed to be hers, as he saw it.

By this time she had closed her book all together, setting it aside. They continued in conversation, Lyanna asking questions about things and places she'd only ever read or dreamed of, making him describe them all to her in excruciating detail while he obliged, enjoying every twist of her face, smile on her lips. The excitement was intoxicating or perhaps it was just her. Lyanna had the ability to give him one of two extremes: complete joy or horrid misery and for those hours it was blissfully the first.

She had intended to ignore him for their entire day journey, but she never picked up her book for the rest of the trip. Niklaus had wanted acknowledgement, what he got was companionship and real conversation. It was well past night and into the early hours of morning. Lyanna's questions had become few as she tired, drifting in and out of sleep.

Staring at her stack of letters throughout her periods of rest he internally debated whether he should take advantage of her exhaustion and satiate his curiosity. In conclusion, he uncharacteristically decided against it. They had, had such a pleasant period of time together. If he were caught her indignation would surely ruin it. Instead he settled for watching countryside pass by through the coach window and observing Lyanna as she slept.

Burrowed back into the cushion seats, with her cloak wrapped around her like a blanket, he was completely unaware that she'd woken briefly.

"Niklaus..."

"Yes?"

"Was it you that wrote to me about the Parliament?"

A few minutes longer and she would have drifted peacefully back to sleep and he could have waited out her question. Instead he swallowed, "Yes."

"You sent me the necklace from Lord Harte?"

He had sent her an amber from _him_. He'd lied and said it was from her father, because he knew perhaps a little too well what it felt like to wish so desperately for acknowledgement from a parent but know it would never come.

"Yes."

"Why?" she questioned, her voice fading. He waited until he was sure she had likely fallen asleep before he answered, "Mayhaps, 'I wish to go beyond the fire that burns me.' "

She'd told him that before that there was no point in having intentions if they were not known, if the object of such thought could not be given the opportunity to respond. She was right, but that didn't change the fact that he'd also meant what he'd said earlier: he didn't wish to indulge in weaknesses.

Understanding what he meant completely, she opened her eyes surprising him that she was still awake and had caught his reply.

She should have taken a separate carriage. Lyanna should have just read her book. She should have never asked Elijah about the gift and kept it a mystery. Perhaps then they could have both been spared.

* * *

She had watched the entire thing from the window. The way he took her arm, the passing of something between them and the kiss. Even through a layer of frost, she could see the affection that they had for one another.

What was it about Lyanna Lockwood that was so wonderful anyhow? Sure, she was attractive but Katerina knew she was more beautiful. Sure Lyanna was intelligent and considerate, but in the end did that really matter? When a man took you to bed, acted out every fantasy he'd been entertaining, he didn't care what a woman had read, how many languages she spoke or how thoughtful of a person she was.

They only cared that the body was warm, willing, attentive and more than appealing to look at.

It wasn't fair.

Didn't she already have enough? She was the Lady of this great house, without a man to answer to, to be controlled by. She had Lilly who adored her, who would do anything for her. And she had Elspeth who loved her like a mother should love a child. How Katerina wished her own mother had been- that she would have cared a little more.

Some days Katerina wished her mother had loved her enough to not send her away: to keep her home, with her child a bastard or not. A real mother, one that cared for her daughter wouldn't have abandoned her.

Never mind that now. Her mother had done her a favor. She may have sent Katerina away, out of shame, but she had saved her from a life of poverty in a tiny little village. She spared her an existence of eking out of pathetic life, as her mother had before her and Katerina's sisters would after.

It was blessing they didn't want her.

Lyanna already had so much in her life. Did she need Elijah as well? Why was it that Katerina could never attract a man like Elijah?

Foolish question, she knew why. He wasn't like Niklaus or Trevor, any of the other men that swarmed to her like flies. He scared her at times. He was so polite, proper and gracious but there were moments when she knew that was all a lie. That he was doing it all to appease her and those around him.

She knew that he could see it in her. The ugly thing that hid under the pretty mask she wore. He knew that under her coy smiles, fake laugh, silly little games, there was something else, something much more desperate.

And that was what repulsed him. It couldn't be anything else. He was male, was he not? He could appreciate a pretty face and light disposition, a willingness to allow him to explore his more basic wants.

No... Elijah was no different than the rest.

He didn't care how many languages Lyanna spoke or how many books she had read, how few games she played with him. When he saw her, he saw the same thing that any man would, a pretty face and a fortune.

One thing Katerina didn't have. Not now, anyhow. Perhaps someday...

Until then, Katerina would have to use what she had. Men's attentions, no matter how noble could never be held. They were just as willing to trade one warm bed for another, if the offer was more enticing.

And she'd make it more enticing. She had no other option. If Elijah didn't want her, if he saw what she really was and it repulsed him so greatly, caused him to withdraw so far that he couldn't be brought back, then what hope did she have? A pretty mask could only be worn for so long.

The fresh illusion would eventually go stale and then what would Katerina be left with? No home, no family... All she had was her looks and her wit. Perhaps not the same as Lyanna's intelligence but she had an intellect of a different kind. One that was so much more valuable to a woman.

Lyanna wasn't like her. She had lived a life of such comfort. She didn't understand what it was like to have to survive by any means possible. Men had their names, fortunes or skills. Katerina had her looks and her uncanny ability to survive.

She may have adored Lyanna, loved her truly, but she wasn't foolish enough to love anyone more than herself. That was a lesson she'd already learnt that hard way.

And perhaps that was Kat's wit, to never make the same mistake twice.

* * *

**1492 AD**

**Eltham Palace**

**London, England**

Looking about the room it was difficult to ignore the fact that she was the only female present. In a room of fifty men, she stood alone. They had rode through the night and into the next morning. As soon as the horses entered the grounds of Eltham Palace, Niklaus became a stranger to her. He didn't even look at her as they exited the carriage. No parting words, no reassurances and not even a second glance as they were shown to their corridors.

Now, alone amongst anything but friends she started to wonder if every word that had passed between them in the carriage was a lie.

"Lady Lockwood," Lord Morris nodded as he passed her by. Not far behind was Arthur, following him like a shadow. When she'd come to London to be seen by Parliament and King Henry she imagined that it would a private affair. However, it seemed that her story was open for public fodder. Lords from the border lands of Scrathclyde, her neighbors- wolves or their supporters, were there mixed amongst other strange men of the court.

Hands clammy, she nervously smoothed them over the skirt of her gown, trying to calm herself. If she was this distressed and she hadn't even caught sight of King Henry, she couldn't imagine what her heart would be doing when he would finally called her into his presence.

Perhaps things would be better if Niklaus was there. It wasn't as if he didn't give her waves of apprehension as well. However, those types of calamitous feelings would be a welcome distraction at the moment.

"Attention… attention!" A voice rang throughout the hall, heads of men in the room following its source as it finished, "I give you King Henry."

As the men stepped forward, Lyanna couldn't see a thing. They crowded in a path as the king and his close members of parliament entered. Allowing herself to be pushed into the background she would have preferred to stay there until the evening meal, unnoticed and unbothered, but she heard a throat clearing, "Lady Lockwood I presume?"

He was short and balding, dressed in fine fabrics.

"Yes."

"The King requests you come closer." Offering his arm, she had no choice but to take it as she followed him through the small groups that had formed until they reached a clearing and she caught her first glimpses at royalty.

Standing next to the king, Niklaus wore a surcote like nothing she'd ever seen. His houppelande a rich fuchsia, not like anything he'd worn before, even at the ball. His hair pulled back and neatly collected with a leather string. Suddenly her pale blue burgundian seemed impecunious, not helping her nerves in the slightest.

She looked to him, hoping for even the slightest glance of reassurance but found none. Niklaus stared past her like she was made of air.

"Lady Lockwood," diverting her attention, she bowed in greeting to King Henry. A slight man, his face was thin, dark full hair peeking out from under his golden crown. This was the man that had defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth. She tried not on that further. She needed not another reason to feel intimidated.

"Your Grace."

"It has been called to my attention that there has been a disturbance in your area," he started benignly enough.

Lyanna's mouth was open ready to answer when he continued, "On your lands no less… fifteen men found dead. Some would say that you were not only aware but orchestrated their deaths. What say you of these accusations?"

Again, Lyanna opened her mouth to answer only to promptly shut it again when he removed the need for her to not do so, "I'll wait for your explanation when I gather with parliament after the Sabbath."

Not understanding exactly what it was that she was being told, Lyanna should have nodded her head and simply answered, "Yes Your Grace," but never one to be silent she interrupted, "Do you not wish to hear my plea, Your Grace?"

If there was noise, chatter in the background before, it dropped to complete silence, the room full of men in awe or rather horror that she should speak so directly to King Henry.

"No," he paused giving her a long, scrutinizing look, "You may respond to such accusations if the parliament decides to further take your case to the Star Chambers."

The sound of  _Star Chambers_ sent a chill down Lyanna's spine. It was almost a thing of nightmares, the dreaded Star Chambers. Seated in Westminster Palace it was a place where nobles could be taken without cause or reason and disappear without a word of explanation to their families. Their land ownership re-evaluated, bequeathed to other members of the court as their families were displaced like vagrants.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lyanna had the good sense to answer, curtseying as she was excused from his presence. If there was one thing she wished for more than anything it was to not see the towers of Westminster unless it was from the window of her carriage and she rode from London back to Scrathclyde and Greyshaw.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

He waited until just before their evening meal to finally read Lyanna's letter. Alone in the rooms he'd been given (begrudgingly on Elspeth's part) in Greyshaw Manor, his shoulder rested against the mantle as he peeled the seal from the thick stack of folded parchment. Inside he found three other letters addressed to Elspeth, Lilly and Katerina. It was then that he realized that this letter wouldn't be like all of those that he had received from her before.

It was goodbye letter, in case Klaus couldn't save her. Elijah hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should continue. It felt that if he read it that would mean that he'd accepted its possibility: Lyanna Lockwood would die. But didn't he already know this?

Looking down at her intricate scrawl, his hand wrinkled the edge of the page: the words looked up at him condemningly. He closed his eyes, fingers smoothing the crinkled parchment.

Was he not in control of his emotions?

_Elijah,_

_Mayhaps there are things that I shouldn't say, words that shouldn't pass between us. Is it too late? Has too much time passed in silence for us to try to begin again, go back and right wrongs? What would be the point now, I often wonder?_

_I feel if I were to try to resent you it would only be a futile effort. I trust you even when I do not wish to. I'd miss you even if I should not, for how could I not? I feel as though I had a premonition of you before I met you. Mayhaps you came to me in a dream. Is it just I? Do you not feel it as well?_

Of course he felt it. They had met in a village in Italy, one night by a fire. But still she was right, beyond even his memories. Even though Lyanna might be Niklaus's hunter, she was something to Elijah as well- something so close, so very familiar. She was not Hannah although it felt as though Hannah was her. And both were someone whom he couldn't place but knew so well from a time before.

Perhaps it was lingering thoughts, memories of Hannah he had yet to place. It was sympathy for a girl that had been so innocent and was toyed with so mercilessly by his brother. An act he did nothing to stop, as he would not again.

_I forgive you..._

He felt a burn creep up his spine, wrap around his neck, seep into his veins and tug at the lens of his eyes. The smell of Vervain, never again in his thousand years of life would that odor register in his consciousness and would he not see Lyanna, body limp against the ice, limbs hanging like a child's doll needing to retrieved.

He'd pulled her from the water, held her close, carried her home and was afraid to let her go. He'd considered it then, as his brother had accused (mayhaps knew): of taking her and running as far as possible. There was an entire world out there. Could Niklaus look forever? Would he care for anything past the curse? As he had stood on the threshold of the kitchen doors to Greyshaw manor clothes frozen, Lyanna's skin turning ashen with chill, he'd looked at the road and pondered how long he would have, how far he could get? Could he make it to the village, Wales, perhaps London before Klaus would notice their absence? If he went further into Scotland, deep into the Clans, would his brother follow him through the burrows of werewolves that perfumed the Northern wind?

How desperate would he be to kill the widow if she were no longer a threat? But as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, they were quickly erased. It wasn't Lyanna Klaus would follow, it was Elijah. It wouldn't be her death he sought, but Elijah's for betrayal.

Even though he was sure they could both survive, he could run with her till the end of time, he knew it was kinder to let Lyanna die. She wouldn't wish to live in a world where those she loved were now gone. She fed from their happiness as he fed from hers. And it was that, which convinced him to take her inside. It was with that knowledge that he finally went to his brother.

It wasn't a prevarication to Lyanna. It was betrayal of himself. She would die and he would have to live forever, knowing that he allowed it to happen, that he let someone so perfect, so close to him go.

That he loved her and he had let her die.

_Please if I do not return with your brother, I ask that you give these letters to Katerina, Lilly and Elspeth. I have enclosed instructions for each as to what they should do. You'll know when the time is right to do so, as I would trust no one else but you on this matter._

He looked at the letters again, his eyes tracing the Lockwood crest imprinted in the yellow wax.

_Mayhaps I should have said more, when we had time. But as the foolish mute or perhaps a coward, I say it now._

_If, "... it is time to depart, for me to die (perhaps), for you to go on living; which of us takes the better course, is concealed from anyone except God."_

Socrates, Lyanna's favorite. Elijah's lips moved, finishing the rest of the philosopher's thought as if he could hear Lyanna reciting it in his mind.

_Somehow, Elijah, I fear not death as much as I do the simple absence. I worry for Lilly and Katerina. I worry for Elspeth, but I do not worry for you. I feel as though if my life should end that my affection for you shall not. What was it that you once said, "We are of but space and time?" Yes, I believe that is true. For as I have known you before in another life, I will again. Perhaps not in this body and not with this mind... but know all the same: if I pass from this life, I will meet you in another._

Only she wouldn't and that was the cruelty of it all. As his brother would kill his hunter's line with the death of the doppelganger, he'd take from Elijah the promise of the future she spoke of.

_As I write this I think of your voice guiding me, comforting as you always are. I will think of you as I go to London and if I shall not return I ask three things of you: look after my girls and ask your brother for Canzoniere that I have borrowed from you. I've ruined it now and left something for you inside, in case the time should come. And finally, Elijah, I ask most selfishly for you to consider my request... wait for me in this other life and greet me with a smile? I know I shall look for you._

_For it seems that above all else, "these three things remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of all is love."_

_Lyanna_

Folding the letter, he tucked it amongst his things where he intended to keep it forever. Although Lyanna Lockwood was his brother's curse she was his dearly beloved friend and above all else his three remaining things.

* * *

**Eltham Palace**

**1492 AD**

When they were led into the Dining Hall Lyanna looked at the large decadent table: it could have easily sat close to a hundred bodies.

Shown to her seat, they were placed in proximity to the king by their relative importance. At the far end of the table, Lyanna was so far away that it felt as if she were in another room. It spoke volumes of what the court and King Henry himself thought of her, but Lyanna couldn't have been more pleased. That was until she saw who would be neighbors.

Sliding into her seat she looked up to find Arthur seated across from her, Lord Morris to her right, Lord Bosse to her left and their company, flanking their sides. She was surrounded, like a lamb in a wolves' den.

Craning her neck she looked down the length of the great table for Niklaus and found him seated in close proximity to Henry. The thought occurred to her then, that hadn't before,  _What if he was not her ally but her enemy? What if Niklaus wasn't planning to counter the claims that had been levied against her? What if he intended to use his apparent influence to finish her off?_

Was she stupid enough to think differently for even a moment because they had shared something in the carriage ride to London?

Had she forgotten the abbey? His threats before?

"Lady Lockwood," Lord Morris began, leaning in a little closer than what was polite as they were served their course of fowl, "You come to London alone?"

Her first instinct was to look again down the table to Niklaus. Was she alone?

"Yes."

Cutting into his bird, he remarked, "Strange, I heard from the stable master that Lord Mikaelson and yourself shared a carriage from Scrathclyde."

Lyanna picked up her knife, waiting until he made eye contact with her before she poignantly answered, "Yes well, the roads have been dangerous as of late."

"Yes, they have. You never know what vagrant may stop a traveling party, the things that could happen… especially to a woman alone," the way the words rolled off his tongue, it was impossible to perceive them as anything but the threat they were.

Chiming in Lord Bosse began, "Strange the interest the Lords Mikaelson have taken in you and Lady Lilly…."

"I would not call it an interest," she replied carefully.

"Then what would define it?"

Lyanna gave up on cutting her meat. At this rate, she'd not eat one bite if they were to rally back and forth between each other, one taking up where the other left off. Reaching for her glass of wine, she took a lingering taste before she corrected, "An acquaintance."

"I do not know many acquaintances that frequent people's lands as often as he and his brothers seem to, yours."

It wasn't even remotely subtle what they were trying to do. In fact with each passing moment it became more obvious. They would have to wait until the Sabbath, which meant that they had those three days to not only influence parliament and catch the king's ear but also to attempt to slowly drive her mad.

"We are neighbors."

"But just neighbors?" Lord Morris continued, volleying the conversation back into his control.

"Yes, of course. Are you trying to imply something, Lord Morris?"

"I wouldn't dream…" he started, "A Lady is just that: the picture of our father's holy vessel."

"Yes," Lord Bosse interrupted, "Women of good breeding are the purest of mind and body… ladies truly. Although, that is women of noble lines…. Tell me Lady Lockwood, whom was your father again? Your Mother?"

She could feel her cheeks begin to burn hot, both from anger and embarrassment. That they should broach the topic of her parents with what she knew now and even if she was still ignorant, it was slap in the face. Should they not just call her bastard outright? Stop dancing around their blatant innuendos before the second course was served and save their time.

Lyanna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as they waited for her response that wouldn't come. She wouldn't justify their crude remarks with words. If they meant to break her they would fail. She'd rather freeze with the rats then give them the satisfaction of seeing her flounder.

"Lady Lilly is quite a pretty thing, isn't she?" they began again. Was there no one else to speak to at their end of the table?

"All alone there, with no one to watch out for her with you gone," Arthur this time, added. The sound of his voice was like a knife on porcelain.

"And young Katerina…." Lord Bosse offered, a dark look passing over his face, "A woman with no family…."

"No one to miss her….." Arthur concluded threateningly. The thought of her girls tucked away in Greyshaw at that moment comforted her. Nothing would happen to Lilly or Kat with Elijah there. She may not know where she stood with Niklaus but she always knew where she stood with Elijah.

He had told her he'd protect the girls and she believed him wholeheartedly.

"They are well looked after," she replied curtly.

"One should hope so, times like these…." Lord Morris concluded, a insidious thought shadowing through his eyes, exposing his decrepit mind.

"You mean times when men threaten and kill the innocent?" she fired back quickly. The drink and lack of food from constant interrogation was making her increasingly bold and less polite.

"Men…?" Lord Morris questioned, somewhat amused, "Women as well have been known to commit crimes."

And what was Lyanna's real crime? Protecting what was hers? Protecting the girls? Or just not giving them that damn stone? Not rolling over and letting them have it all.

That was Lyanna's crime: standing up for herself, not backing down, refusing to shriek away at their threats and apparently that was the most egregious one she could commit.

"Because we must…." She finally replied.

"Did you think that when you murder fifteen men?" Arthur accused.

"You and I both know I murdered no one."

"Did you not?" The way he said it, the look her gave her, she could tell where he was going before the next words even left his mouth.

"What of your husband? Did you not murder him?"

No, she hadn't ripped life from Nathaniel's body. She didn't leave him broken, dying alone in the moors. But there had been moments, dark ones in solitude when she had wondered, if it was her that had ultimately killed him.

If she had done things differently, if she could have been different, gave him whatever it was that he seemed to have needed that she didn't provide, would it all have still happened? Could she have spared his life, Lilly and Kat's as a consequence?

Her skin was burning hot. There was no mistaking that she was flustered, the wine causing a knot to form in the back of her throat.

"Stop," she warned.

"No… we both know how Nathaniel passed," Lord Bosse answered for Lyanna.

"Gurgling on his fluids," Arthur mocked. What did this all mean to him? He was no one of great consequence to the outside world. He wasn't a Lord, he owned no significant lands. But he was of great importance to these men. He'd slaughtered her husband and found himself a kingdom, a following and he was coming for the throne.

No matter the cost. No matter who had to die or suffer in the process and they would follow him, do whatever necessary to give him that seat. Pack law, leader rule, came over any law of the land, court or King.

"Did you know he wept like fool before he died?" Arthur taunted. Lies, it had to be a lie. Nathaniel may have been many things, but he wasn't poltroon. Not that it mattered now. Craven of King he was dead and neither his bravery nor cowardice could save her.

"Mayhaps if you had tended to your bed…" Arthur plied away at her, drawing her humiliation out for the world to witness.

"Mayhaps if you satisfied your wife…." she fired back, most improperly but she didn't care, the look on Arthur's face turning sour at the mention of it in front of the other men.

Apparently done with fun and game, Arthur leaned across the table slightly before answering, "You will hand over that stone. You will give me my lands or your head will roll in Westminster while Lilly and that girl will die after they have entertained the pack's interests."

His voice was low enough that no one could hear if they weren't in the immediate proximity of Lyanna and the men. To the rest of the dinner party it was pleasant meal as Lyanna suffered in hell, a silent, relatively unregistered torment.

Unnoticed by all but Niklaus, whom had acutely heard every word that had passed between Lyanna and her attackers.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

Sitting by the fire, the chess board in front of them, Lilly's fingers lingered on his pawn.

"Who taught you how to play?"

"My brother..." she answered absentmindedly, abandoning the pawn and instead reaching for the knight he had hoped she wouldn't notice was vulnerable.

"And you...? Wait, let me guess, someone quite old and now dead?" placing his piece on her side, she smirked.

"Something like that."

"You're a much easier competitor than Lyanna."

"Is that so?" he responded somewhat unamused, glancing over at Elspeth, whom was mending a pair of stockings in the corner, eying them suspiciously. She had been doing so throughout dinner. It was as if the old hag could smell Lilly on him and could see all the lewd acts he'd been plotting out in his mind throughout the entirety of the evening, waiting in anticipation for when she'd retire to bed.

"Yes, she is listening," Lilly whispered, just loud enough that only the two of them could hear.

"I don't like the way she looks at me."

"I rather think Elspeth doesn't prefer the way you look at me."

"Please," Kol scoffed, "What way?"

Looking up from the board, Lilly threw a wary glance in his direction screaming,  _You know…._

Changing the subject, he examined the board, "And who taught Lyanna?"

"The same person who taught Nathaniel... my father."

Lilly had never mentioned her parents, she rarely, only once before, spoke Nathaniel's name out loud to Kol. Perhaps it was something that he was supposed to ask? Isn't that what humans did when they were in these types of "situations" with someone? Kol didn't know. He'd never been in one before.

Now, it seemed as though perhaps if he was supposed to, too much time had passed and to inquire after something so obvious would be maladroit. Then again, not saying something seemed just as awkward.

Stepping out of his comfort zone, Kol started, "You never speak of your parents."

"What is there to say? They are dead," she added, quite bluntly, as if it was a closed matter, something that shouldn't be discussed further.

Internally shrugging, Kol made his next move, blissfully thankful that it wasn't a topic Lilly seemed to want to broach any more than he wished to speak of it. It was easier that way, for them to stay away from things that were a little too personal.

"They were never satisfied with one another," she started from nowhere. "They weren't anything like Lyanna and Nathaniel... They hated one another." As she spoke she didn't look up from the board, perhaps a little embarrassed at the confession.

"... Or at least how I thought Ly and Nathan were..."

So she knew? Kol had wondered how much Lady Lockwood had bothered to divulge to Lilly. Most likely leery of ruining whatever perfect image she may have of her brother.

He could see it then, spreading over her face as familiar as it was in his mind: doubt. What those people felt, or thought they felt. It never seemed to last.

Kol's mind drifted, thinking of things he hadn't considered in centuries: his own family as they were, long before and his parents. It was difficult to have clear, real memories, to try to separate fact from nightmare.

One thing he was sure of, he knew as truth, was the moment he found them. The village was in flames, people running in terror, his siblings feeding like crazed animals. Covered in victims' blood himself, he stumbled back to their home, drunk on death and excitement from others terror only to find his own.

He should have known. Mikael's face, the look he gave her when Niklaus was discovered. It was a desperate mix of acrimony and disgust. Kol should have foreseen it happening.

_Mikael stood over his mother, her face pale, eyes open, chest literally ripped in two and her heart, the tissue oozing between his father's fingers before he tossed it aside, like it was refuse and meant nothing at all to him. Then he left without a word, not sparing Kol even a parting glance._

He should have stay and buried her. Kol should have at the very least picked up the discarded organ and place it back out inside her body of respect. But he couldn't. He should have felt something, anything at all, but all he felt was empty.

Long before Rebekah would arrive in tears, and then Niklaus and Elijah would carry her body from their child hood home, Kol bent by his mother, mutilated on the floor, the dogs sniffing at her corpse, licking the wounds, ready to feed. Chasing them off, he paid her the last kindness a son could and closed her eyes.

At the very least, if he did nothing else, even if he was a coward and selfish, he'd shut her eyes from this world and only hope that she found peace in the next.

"He was a good person, Nathaniel..." she finished quietly, her speech disjointed but Kol knew what she meant. Desire, love and eventually hatred, it did strange things to those they infected.

He couldn't remember Niklaus then. Perhaps there was a time before Tatia when he was blithe and Elijah wasn't so cautious, calculated- so sure that any and every move if not perfectly planned and stewarded would end disastrously. What had love done to them? It ruined them for a life full of anything other than restraint and misery.

And Rebekah, caring for anyone other than herself had only ever left her a mess, always searching for something to replace what she thought she once had: always looking for another like her hunter from so long ago.

It seemed a miserable business, racked with nothing but disappointments. Kol never had any intention of being a part of it, in any fashion.

"Kol?"

"Yes?" he looked up at her, smiling at him, whatever sadness or feelings of loss that had been there moments before was gone from her face.

"It's your move..."

Yes, indeed it was. Feeling things, emotions... love, was a miserable business. A game only for a masochist but Kol was part of it, whether he wanted to be or not.

* * *

**Eltham Palace**

**1492 AD**

Lyanna stood amongst the men as they hovered with their brandy, some of them swaying from drink. The courtly entertainers danced, juggled and sang. They went mostly unnoticed as the men glommed together in groups, talking, laughing amongst themselves.

She could feel their eyes on her and hear her name slip in and out of conversation that was anything but polite. She was a social pariah, ostracized as if she had leprosy.

They were doing this on purpose. As the only woman in the room, they were testing her resolve, just as they had with dinner- seeing how far she could be pushed and what she could withstand. If she faltered she'd only hurt her case by disproving that she were a sane woman. That she was not known for bouts of hysterics or rage.

Even if the queen was present, the tension in the room would only have been slightly more bearable. Perhaps if she weren't waiting at Westminster but instead here, they would act differently with a witness (sympathizing or not).

Lyanna may have been a bastard, a widow and just a woman but she refused to cower under the weight of their social pressure. If she broke now, there would be no turning back. Circling around her like wolves in packs, they were looking for the first sign of blood before they descended.

Only an hour more, perhaps and then she could excuse herself, she could leave without appearing rude or ungrateful. So alone she stood, attempting to ignore the sound of her name slipping from dozens of lips, the accusations they were busy levying, vicious gossip they were spreading like a poisoned seed.

She could have attempted to join their conversations, defend herself, but if dinner was any indication, she knew she was outnumbered and out voiced. Anything she said would be turned against her, her every word twisted to conform to their meanings.

When the doors opened at the end of the large hall, she'd assumed it was another group of court performers. Instead, in walked a group of women, more than a dozen. For a moment, Lyanna breathed a sigh of relief: an opportunity for conversation, camaraderie.

"Ladies," a voice called out, greeting the women.

Lyanna didn't dare turn to look for Niklaus. He'd made it perfectly clear at dinner that they were not allies. His aid would most likely only add fuel to their fire. The men snickered, all turning their attention to the women who had lined themselves in the center of the room.

Upon closer inspection, Lyanna realized that these females would not serve as potential company for her. Their dresses cut low, faces heavily painted, hair spilling out over their shoulders, they stood like peacocks on display.

As men stepped forward, leering at the women, Lyanna felt a blush creep over her cheeks and down her neck.

"The last one on the left, she's a good one, no?" a voice behind her asked, as the men sized up each one of the whores, deciding if they would make a purchase.

Did they have no decency? No. As if they hadn't made it plainly clear before, there was no doubting it now, that Lyanna was an interloper in their little world. Such activities may be inappropriate if the queen were in attendance, other ladies of the court. But Lyanna didn't qualify as anyone of importance, worthy of respect. Her status in the eyes of these men was of no higher in elevation then the common whores that were busy prostituting themselves for the highest bidder in the center of the room.

She looked to King Henry who although, none participatory, made no effort to stop the activities, instead engaged in conversation with one of his advisors, as if the women didn't exist.

Swallowing, she tried to avert her gaze as familiar men stepped forward, men she knew, those that had wives, pawing at the girls. As if they were twine dolls to be toyed with, or a horse to be inspected before sale, they pulled at the tops of the gowns, lifting up the dresses, exposing legs, thighs and other private feminine areas. The women all the while stood unfazed as their breasts and bodies were exposed to the room.

Through the entire encounter the women seemed unaffected, plastering fake smiles on their frozen faces. Could these men not see how they were acting? Could they not feel the disgust at such types of violations?

No.

But Lyanna felt it all, shame tenfold, both theirs, which they couldn't express and her own for having to be privy to it all.

Making their final selections, coins passed from buyers' hands into their broker's fist. The girls were led from the line and took up residence in their purchasers' laps or hung from their sides as they were lewdly groped while the men continued their festivities.

Some of the girls were much younger than Lyanna; one couldn't possibly have even been even four and ten. Even through their makeup she could see that they were pale. Some of them thin but trying to hide it under the layers of their gowns. A lurid realization coming over her, that these men were right. She was no better than anyone of these girls. Where would she be if Lord Lockwood's guilt hadn't inspired him to take her in?

Would this have been Lyanna's fate? Lost and wandering in the world? Perhaps she would have been taken into the church? Father Hall would have discovered her earlier. Surely that would have been a better life, but most likely, no. It could have easily been her, standing there, body being groped and gapped at freely, all in the hopes of securing interest only so she could perform whatever indecent acts some man wished and maybe, perhaps, she'd be able to feed herself.

A cold chill ran down her spine. The division was never there between her and those women. She wouldn't be a lady then and wasn't now. They knew. All of them knew, as they touched these poor innocent girls that they were all Lyannas, as she was them.

When they passed, brushing by her on the heels of their men, they didn't make eye contact with her as they had with their buyers. Their gaze averted as they followed in shame, regret, disgust and for many of them, simple indifference.

She hadn't known it but her hands were trembling, her face and neck sanguine. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she felt as if she'd been running. Still she refused to move, relent. Only a while longer and she could excuse herself. When the men left with their girls, retired for the evening, she could then leave and save face.

Looking down, she clenched her hands forcing them behind her back, taking slow steady breaths. These girls weren't her. The men could think of her whatever they wanted; they could say whatever they wished about Lyanna. It didn't make it true; she only hoped the Star Chamber would see it the same way. That justice was indeed blind and that even with the mounting odds against her, they would see the truth. They would know that she was not capable of murder. They would dismiss the idea of a trial.

 _You'll meet the King's justice soon enough,_ Arthur had whispered to her at dinner. And from the way they were looking at her then, she no longer doubted his words.

Her mind raced with questions: Why wait for Sabbath to determine if there should be a trial? Why have a trial, if they were convinced of guilt meriting a trial? Would they not also already be convinced that she'd committed the crime?

She should have given Arthur the stone long before. Shrinking into the background, the weight of it all became a little too much to bear. She forced air past the knot in the back of her throat, so uncomfortable, shamed, that she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. Rapidly, she kept trying to swallow but she felt as if she were choking- all of her anxiety and grief collecting, waiting to burst forth. If she couldn't just get rid of that feeling, she'd crack at any moment and be weak and pathetic enough to allow herself to cry.

Sucking air in through her nose, her peripheral vision became hazy with the water that threatened to fall. And then she felt it, cold and gentle pressed against her hand.

He hadn't spoken one word to her all night. He'd left her for the vultures at dinner. Lyanna was sure she could write off every word he'd ever said to her. But when she needed it most, it seemed he always showed; even if under duress.

Standing next to her, they looked they were simply watching everyone, possibly exchanging pleasantries. He was the only man that had bothered to offer her company. And as they looked out over the men gathering like allies to one another, forming one large enemy camp against Lyanna, whores and all- Niklaus stood next to her. Her hand tucked subtly behind the folds of her dress, wrapped inside his.

It wasn't an explanation. It wasn't even an apology. It was a promise that she wasn't alone. That he wouldn't leave her there to fend for herself and that Lyanna wasn't like those women. She was important. She was worthy of being heard and respected. That he respected her and cared for her, even if he wasn't vocal about it.

They'd practically flayed her open at dinner and slowly picked the meat from her bones. He may have not said a word or spared a glance in her direction since the carriage ride but he was well aware of what was going on. And he'd give her credit that she'd lasted as long as she had. Many women would have cracked long before.

She likely thought herself abandoned and in all truth, he'd considered it, more than a few times. If he wanted to destroy Lyanna Lockwood, this was his opportunity. He wouldn't even have to say a word, all Klaus would have to do was let events play out. They were set to compile the evidence, real or not, in a case against her. Inviting her here, making her stay was all part of a little social game- playing with their meal before they devoured her.

He could have just let them kill her, slowly and with little effort. It would have eliminated all of his problems. If there was a trial, which without his intervention there would be, she'd be found guilty. King Henry's and the Star Chamber's justice was swift. Her head would be rolling before the week was out. He could be back at Harte Manor, gathering his doppelganger before the news even reached Scrathclyde.

It could be that simple. If she were Hannah, he would have snapped her neck a month ago. If she were any other human standing in his way, there wouldn't be a question as to what he should do. He should have kept it that simple but it was never going to be so easy with Lyanna.

And that was how he found himself moving from each member of the Star Chamber present, using compulsion when needed. He'd spent the evening with Henry, whispering in his ear, filling his mind with the things Klaus wanted him to think. Arthur may have had the popular opinion but Klaus had the two things that could make this situation disappear: money and the ability to make people believe whatever he told them to believe.

Arthur may have been bold but he was no one's fool. Where before Henry's mind was once clay to be molded and shaped at Klaus's will; now he had vervain in his blood. Klaus could smell it on his breath. Where the rest could be compelled, one by one, he'd pick them off. Henry wouldn't be so easy. He couldn't manipulate his opinion; it would have to be purchased for a heavy sum.

It was no secret that Henry was a man of business and had a taste for opulence, burning through the coffers quicker than they could be replaced by taxes.

He'd spent most of the evening past dinner, avoiding her in truth. He refused to pay her even a moment's attention, even without an audience because he could taste it in the air: her humiliation on display, her isolation. He feared that if he saw it he might feel compelled to do something about it.

And he was right. After the whores had entered the room, the men's attentions diverging from Lyanna, he'd made the mistake of looking for her. What he found was what he'd been trying to avoid. In the corner, skin flushed pink, face stoic, she looked like she might cry at any moment.

It was the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever done. He considered just sparing her a few words, but somehow he found himself grabbing for the hand that shook behind the folds of her skirt. It was human, so disgustingly sensitive, nothing like who he was.

But she needed it and begrudgingly Klaus knew it even then, that if Lyanna as going to drown he would as well. The loose end he'd never allow himself to tie off.

"I'm going to die," she whispered, not looking at him, the realization flooding over her. If she died, Lilly and possibly Katerina would as well- Elspeth not far behind.

"All humans die, Love."

She shook her head, eyes glazing over, "You're right. How stupid I was to think I would be the exception?"

Lyanna could sense it then, like the ending of every other fairytale she'd held onto in life. Her life, those she loved, herself, nothing that involved Lyanna would ever be the exception. She would always be the rule. You toy with power, when you are not powerful and there will be consequences.

He squeezed her hand, this time looking at her when he replied, "You'll always be the exception, Lyanna."

Then without another word, he left, making his way towards the girls.

Lyanna tried not to pay attention or care as she watched him whisper into the ear of the man that brought the women. Nodding his head, an understanding seemed to pass between then both as he purchased a woman from the line.

With dark hair, dark eyes, her lovely olive skin seemed to glow over her exposed breast. She was beyond lovely. She looked to be something that would have inspired the Greeks to sing a tale, launch their ships. Lyanna didn't know what was worse; the fact that he was unashamedly buying her, with full intentions of making good on his purchase or the fact that she cared.

She wished he would have stayed away. He should have left her there to suffer because somehow that would have kinder than doing what he just did, saying those words only to be followed up with such contrary actions.

She suffered through perhaps another half hour, staring at her feet, promising herself that she wouldn't cry before she was excused ever so politely by Henry.

Quickly exiting the great room, she practically ran down the corridors past the buttery and kitchens. She didn't care that those servants that littered the halls looked at her strangely as she briskly passed. If she didn't hurry, get to her rooms in minutes; she might allow herself to stop caring and cry right there in the middle of those dimly lit halls.

She could hear their voices in the distance. Men that were exiting the palace grounds, taking their purchases back to where they would stay. Those that were housed within Eltham guided the girls back to their rooms. The more she could make out their echoes the faster she moved, not even caring where she was going. She just needed to be gone.

Turning a corner down an unfamiliar hallway, she stopped when she saw him. Standing there like he'd been waiting for her all along, knew she would be there, right at that moment, Niklaus only nodded as she continued in his direction.

When she passed him, she could hear him start after her, without a word. He wasn't chasing, simply following. Perhaps because he knew she was lost or because he couldn't help himself.

As Lyanna continued down the dark hall, looking at closed doors, hoping at any moment to see something familiar, all she could think was,  _Doesn't he have somewhere else to be? Where is the girl? Why is he following me! Can I not have a moment of peace!_

She could take it no longer, the sound of his footsteps intentionally making soft noises on the stone floors. If he wished to silent, to stalk her without a sound, he could have easily done it. But instead he chose to consciously make sure that she knew he was there. Why?

When she could take it no more, Lyanna whirled around, stopping. Calmly he stepped closer until they were a foot apart. Not demanding anything or even looking for conversation, he nodded his head as if they should continue on their journey.

Reluctantly, Lyanna obliged. The sooner she found her rooms, the sooner she could be alone. Walking side by side for seconds, in silence, she finally asked, "Do you want me dead?"

Niklaus kept his eyes straight ahead, following the impossibly long hall, he replied, "Your problem will be dealt with, Lyanna."

For a second she felt a small rush of relief wash over her, which was quickly clouded with suspicion.

"That's not what I asked." If she was going to die, there was nothing he could do about it. And if there was she waivered in belief on which side he'd throw his influence. In the end, she wasn't naïve. Whatever happened between them up until that point could easily be forgotten by him, if doing so better suited his interests. Whatever his end game may be, Lyanna didn't know. But she was sure, that Niklaus wasn't going to allow her or anyone else to interfere.

"You will not, so what difference does it make?"

"A world…" she replied. Stopping in their journey, she reached out, hand making contact with his houppelande, compelling him to look at her.

"Do  _You_ want me dead?" So many meanings packed into the answer of one question. Of course he wanted her dead. Everything about Lyanna was set to foil every plan he'd ever had. She was turpentine to his resolve. Every thought and  _feeling_  (save him, he was having feelings) he had of her, spelled disaster in every known language.

Yes, he wanted her dead, but needed her alive for his own sanity, "No."

"Why are you really here?"

"For you," he answered honestly, as if she compelled it out of him.

"Do you care about me?"

He was idiot, "Yes."

Lyanna swallowed a shallow breath. She'd known it all along, but had needed to hear it from him. What did that mean? What about the girl? What about all of it? Why were things always so complicated between them?

"How would you like me to respond to that?"

"Makes no difference."

She hesitated, but finally acted on instinct, leaning forward to kiss him, eyes closed, she was close enough to feel her breath reflecting off his skin when he interrupted, "Stop."

He pulled his head away, pausing for a moment before he continued walking.

Opening her eyes, perched awkwardly forward, left like that. Her face flushed, "I don't understand," she called after him.

"You wouldn't," he snapped disgusted.

There wasn't even time for Lyanna to sort out what to say next, embarrassed by his abrupt dismissal.

Stopping again, when he realized she wasn't following he answered, "Do you mind?" as if he had somewhere he had to be or rather perhaps someone that was waiting for him.

"You do not need to wait for me. I will find my way back."

"As you were before? These halls are not safe Lyanna."

Suddenly he cared so much for her safety? Where was he the entire evening? Where was Niklaus when there was a war raging at dinner?

He'd kissed her. It was him that sought her out. He had touched her in the abbey, came for her every time she needed aid. Niklaus had the most convoluted, absurd way of showing her that he cared.

He took her hand and the way he looked at her. What right did he have to be dismissive now?

"Lyanna, please..." the way he said it, so sincere, that is what prompted her oblige. But not before she questioned, "Do you not have someone waiting for you?"

Surely he knew what she meant, but as they paced, moving in lock step, his expression never wavered, as if he hadn't heard her at all until he answered, "No. You already found me."

Finally turning another corner, she recognized her surroundings.

"You are right down there if I am not mistaken?" He pointed maybe 100 yards away.

"Yes... Niklaus?" she didn't know what she meant to say. But she wasn't given the opportunity.

Apparently in front of his own rooms, hand on the knob, he answered, "Good night, Lyanna," closing the conversation between them.

As she walked the rest of the way by herself, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her the entire time. But when she reached her rooms, turning in his direction before entering, he was gone.

* * *

**Scrathclye**

**1492 AD**

After the evening meal, Elijah chose to retire to his rooms, not particularly in the mood to serve as Katerina's entertainment that evening. It seemed however that Katerina had other plans.

He could hear her behind him before he even needed to turn. Stopping in the middle of the secluded hall, he waited for the words, cruel in their sweetness to float by him, "Elijah…"

Staring down the long corridor, he could feel her creep up behind him, waiting for moments before her hand reached out, tracing his shoulder, sliding down his arm. This was the Katerina he knew. This was the one he'd known from those first moments alone together at Harte Manor: what she was really like, under all of her silly games, musings on love and affection from admirers.

She wasn't a lamb and she wasn't the lion. She was the serpent that slithered through the grass, graceful in its movements, seemingly benign, but its bite was more malignant than the lion's jaws. It was her species that had led to the fall of mankind, the banishment into Nod. It was the knowledge of something forbidden but the promise that lay beneath, under layers of superficiality that drew him in beyond his own volition.

Brown eyes, soft hair, perfumed skin. The doppelganger was the most deadly of all species, crafted from his mother with perfect accuracy. Her hand left his arm, wrapping around, trailing over his abdomen. She knew what she was doing.

When she pressed close enough to his back that he could feel the heat pouring off her body, he was reminded why he'd poignantly went back to his rooms promptly after dinner. He wouldn't allow himself to be trapped like this. He'd faltered once, he wouldn't again.

Turning to face her, he sighed, "How is it that I can be of assistance to you, Katerina?"

The sigh, it was more foretelling than any words he could have said. She'd intended to come to him as she would any man: provocative, feigning just the right amount of innocence. Perhaps she'd tilt her head just so, stand a little too close. The sigh and his sudden rejection threw everything off. That was the problem with Elijah, his temperament was completely unpredictable. One second he was feeding from her hand and the next treating her as if she were some type of pestilence.

She had to reconfigure her strategy.

"I only wish to seek your company..."

Slowly turning, he answered, "I apologize, Katerina. I am tired this evening and not in the mood."

It was the way he said  _mood,_ quite denoting of some type of sexual encounter, both that he expected it and perhaps would never be in the mood. Either was a little too insulting for Katerina's taste.

Usually in this situation she would play a different card, perhaps suggest that she would seek the company of another man instead. But she worried that when used with Elijah, such a threat would only be met with indifference.

"Aren't you bold? You speak to me as if you thought I would willingly offer you something more than just my company," Katerina snapped.

It was small but distinct, a slight falter in Elijah's facial expression. His ever present polite mannerisms pushed to the forefront past his infuriating indifference.

"I assure you I meant nothing of the sort," he replied ever so courteously.

"Did you not? Is that not what you think of me, something so easy to obtain?" She may have been attempting to play on his guilt but it didn't mean that she wasn't sincere about what she'd said.

Katerina was not the type of be toyed with- rather it was her that chose, whom, where and how long it would last.

"I do not think of you that way Katerina, I assure you. However, I am tired."

She intended at first to only let a glimpse of vulnerability to peak through, but before she even knew it, the words were tumbling from her mouth, "I'm not as silly as you think I am…."

"And why would think that Katerina?"

"I can tell by the way you look at me. I know more than you think I do and just because I smile doesn't mean I'm a fool."

This was new side to her that he'd never experienced. The innocent girl, the seducer, both he'd seen in spades but this new version was raw- much more real than the other two.

"I never thought you were."

"Didn't you….?"

"What do you wish from me, Katerina?"

Something completely unobtainable- it would never be hers but it didn't mean that she wanted it any less.

"What will you give me?" From any other person it would have sounded desperate but from her there was something lurid in its context, not just sexual but something else that held a differ kind of promise.

 _Nothing…_ he wished to answer because he had nothing to give.

Elijah looked at her and all he saw was Tatia. Some ghosts were better left buried. How many times could a person torture themselves over the same thing?

"… perhaps that is telling, in itself," she replied his silence. He may have saw Tatia but he wasn't alone. When she looked him, Katerina saw every mistake she had made in her short existence. He was another man trying to walk away from her. Only Katerina wasn't foolish enough to allow herself to be left.

Mayhaps that was every person's fate, attempting to right wrongs created so long ago.

It was strange the way she went about it. He usual fluid behavior, charms not in use. It was as if he were experiencing a different woman. Looking at him quite seriously, she nodded her head, before leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

There was nothing flirtatious about it, her usual erotic flare gone. She was neither a whore nor a saint in that moment. All mental comparisons he had before, bouncing her back and forth between his perceptions of Lyanna and Tatia, vanished. She was simply Kat as complicated and recondite as she had ever been.

When she pulled away, looking up at him curiously, "Goodnight Elijah," the hint, onus. She was real in that moment, the mask past slipping and now completely gone.

As she walked away towards her own room, she shamed herself for acting so pathetically, allowing herself to be thrown off guard so easily. And as he watched her go, Elijah didn't think about the kiss or the promises she'd given so many times before of something more. He thought of Kat, as simple and complicated as she could be in just a few unplanned, natural gestures.

For a few moments, he forgot Lyanna's letter and the mistakes he had made and the things he wished he could change, standing in wonderment of the strange calamity that was Katerina Petrova and her deadly bite.

* * *

**Eltham Palace**

**1492 AD**

She had been lying awake in bed for close to two hours, staring at the ceiling of her room. Hundreds of thoughts ran through her mind: Katerina, Lilly, home, Elijah, the wolves, Star Chambers, King Henry, Nathaniel and Niklaus…. Most of those two hours had been spent thinking about Niklaus.

By the time she was standing in a dimly lit hall, in her shift outside his room, she knew it was too late to back down now. She had to do it. If she didn't, she'd always wonder what could have been.

Knocking, she heard him abruptly call out for her to come in.

She had expected to find him up, still dressed. Instead, he was surprisingly sitting up in bed, shirtless, papers scattered out in front of him. Charcoal in hand.

Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it, trying to focus on his face and not on other places. She wanted to get this out before she got flustered or distracted.

"Am I interrupting you?"

He didn't even look up from his work, seemingly not surprised at all that she was there. What Lyanna didn't know was that he could hear her feet pattering down the halls. He'd listened to her heart racing, hand resting on the door, before she had even knocked.

Niklaus may have had a dozen different things running through his mind, but to Lyanna, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

"And if I said you were, would you leave?" Whatever she had come there for, couldn't be good. If it was to lecture him, he didn't need it. If she'd shown up at his door, in her chemise, hair unbraided, hoping to get another careless reaction from him, like she had so many times before, he wouldn't allow it.

He didn't have time for these games that they were playing with one another. He didn't have room for the kinds of emotions she seemed to want to evoke. If he relented for a moment with her, it would snow ball, as it always did. And before he'd know it, he'd be telling her things that he hadn't told anyone before, other than Elijah. He'd be making confessions of thoughts and feelings he wasn't even aware he was hiding.

"No…" she answered calmly.

She never could make it easy for him.

"Then do not leave me in suspense… or better yet, do not waste my time. What is it that you want?" he snapped, black fingers tracing and retracing the lines of his drawing.

She'd had an entire speech prepared, but somehow the words seemed to disconnect from one another, swirling around in her mind, trying to reform in odd nonsensical sentences.

"You worry me sometimes."

She missed it, but if she had been watching close enough she would have noticed him falter, his line diverging from its intended path. Frustrated, he continued on, rubbing at the mistake, forming it into a shadow instead, evenly replying, "Is that so?"

Good, she should be scared. She should run from him as fast as she could. Not that it mattered. Lyanna could run to the edge of world and he'd find her if he wished.

"I am not blind Niklaus… you can be cruel, you have a hatred about you that you keep so near- closer than your own skin. It's an indifference that you seem to have crafted so well over the years."

"Is that so?" She was right. Every single word she said was true. But if she knew that, then why the hell was she here? Perhaps she was a greater fool than he thought, "And let me guess, you think you can cure this?"

"No, I am not so foolish as to try."

"Am I not worth the effort?" he mocked, his tone lined with a kind of sadness he couldn't hide. He felt exposed; every moment with Lyanna was like drowning, coming up for air to find relief, only to shoved back under.

He may have told her that he cared, but she remembered a time when someone else had made similar promises and where had that gotten her? They'd snap at each other like rabbid dogs, both terrified of repeating old mistakes.

"I am someone today to you, but will I be tomorrow? I am not a wide eyed, naïve girl anymore. I know things now that can't be unlearned."

Finally he looked up from his drawing, conceding, "And what is that?"

"Men break what is not theirs too easily and without thought. They ask for trust, implicitly then betray it without apology. They take what they want and when they are done they do not care for the ruin they leave behind."

"You fear I will break you?" There it was: the edge of malignity, creeping into his voice. Cruelty bred from fear and knowledge of a loss that was to come.

"No, I fear I could be foolish enough to someday let you try."

He didn't have an answer for her accusations because they were all true. She was right; he had planned to break her, but hadn't she planned to do the same to him? Did that not in some ways even their score? Neither could claim to be the real victim, only two persons of separate parties, of separate interests and a common weakness.

Leaving her place against the door she walked towards the bed, "I want to show you something…."

Niklaus smirked, irritation lingering from their earlier encounter, "I've lived five hundred years Lyanna. Whatever it is that you think you have to show me that will be novel, I assure you it will not be."

At the foot of the bed, she paused briefly before taking a deep breath and pressing on. Unapologetically, she lifted her shift, exposing her ankles before she climbed on the bed. This could either be the best thing she'd ever done for herself, or the biggest error in judgment she'd ever made.

A little confused Niklaus watched as she reached into his lap removing the sketches he'd been working on, setting them to the side. Rising to her knees, she boldly, without thought crawled into his lap as if it were the most natural thing between them, seating herself on his upper thighs, before continuing, "I may not have ever been to Rome, Paris, seen the things you have. Done the things you have," she paused gaining more courage, before she finished,

"Had dozens of lovers..."

 _Thousands,_  he thought. And for some reason immediately felt uncomfortable, listening to that revelation come from Lyanna's mouth.

She reached out, tentatively at first, before her fingers made contact, brushing over his face, "But I've known love. Seen it... given it."

"And you think I have not?" he answered, his tone somewhat reserved, not nearly as biting.

"No," she replied boldly, honestly.

He didn't respond, swallowing, almost afraid of what she'd say next.

"I'd like to show you..." her voice soft, warm. The way she looked at him made him instantly wish he'd never allowed her in. Every natural instinct for survival that he, had screamed for Niklaus to throw her off of him, tell her she was a fool- plainly, for him to get as far away as fast as possible.

But as she leaned in and kissed him, he held completely still. Preparing himself for the poison he wasn't aware that was ready to set in. Centuries later, with all the distance and time in the world to reflect and see things clearly, he'd realize that of all the moments that he had with her, this was perhaps the defining one, which had sealed his road to hell.

A road bathed in light and littered in lies- his lies.

Scooting closer, there was no longer room between them as she pressed herself into him. Her tongue slipped between his lips, coaxing him out of his nano-stupor. Responding on instinct, he immediately attempted to take over, reaching for her more aggressively, attacking rather than following.

Pulling back, she stalled him in his efforts, silently like she always had, correcting him. Niklaus's first instinct was to lash out. Make some biting remark, something spiteful to defer from his mild embarrassment at her disapproval.

 _Five hundred years, Love. I do not need you to show me how to fuck,_ he wished to snap.

But was stopped from uttering a word when she tried again, leaning forward, only this time her knees pressed into his hands to the bed, poignantly holding him there. Instead of kissing him, she hovered, fingers tracing his face and changing expression. It was like she was studying him, appreciating him, making a memory with her outlines as they watched one another.

When she kissed him again it was slow at first, a conversation between them- a give and take. It was calm, not like their usual rushed and hasty encounters. Niklaus closed his eyes: lemon and rose water, soft hands and warm lips. Her tongue traced him, thumb pressing into his jaw, she nipped at his bottom lip waiting for him to submit, allow her in. And like a fool, he did, Lyanna's tongue sliding inside meeting his.

Her fingers sliding under his tunic up his abdomen and gently pulled him closer. It was a strange juxtaposition, so different from what they had shared in the abbey. Where before it'd been rushed, harsh and bitter in its disconnect this time it was personal… very personal.

She rocked against him at a steady, even pace. It was less of a tease and more like natural progression, acting on instinct, exploration. Lips left his, sliding down his jaw, her breath hot against his neck.

It may have been the least sexual thing in blunt nature, he'd experienced in the centuries. All of his encounters with humans had been quick, heated and to the point. But it was superior in erotic nature to every lascivious encounter he'd had before: sexual acts in public, in multiples, with forbidden female partners.

It was the way she touched him, intimate, careful, purposeful. Niklaus didn't demand it, take it, manipulate that kind of adulation or run from it in disgust. He was left to absorb it.

Reaching for the bottom of her chemise she tugged at the hem, drawing it up over her legs and hips. As it moved up her torso, he stopped her. It was a terrible time to ask. But he never said the right things to Lyanna and their timing was always off. Whatever rational part of him was left, scratched away at the back of his mind. Ines's warning.

"Why?" Why after everything had she changed her mind? He knew he hadn't managed to manipulate her because Lyanna was always too quick for him, always a little too aware of his intentions. She hated him. He was sure of it. And now she came to him, like this? He was always suspicious of something this rewarding, someone being this genuine, this kind, wary of the idea of someone possibly caring about him for unselfish reasons.

She drew the shift over her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the ground beside the bed. He looked at her for a few moments before their eyes met again. If she'd come this far, there was no point in holding back now.

"I get this terrible feeling when I'm around you but it's even worse when you leave," she reached out and touched his face again, her thumb tracing his cheek. "I was wrong when I told you that you aren't capable of caring." As soon as the words left her mouth, the skin of her face and neck flushed pink.

"I want you to care…."

Like he'd earned his reward, proven himself ready, she lifted her knees, freeing his hands, "I want you to touch me…." Instead of instantly reaching for her, rushed, desperate to be satiated, he waited a few moments.

Perhaps he should have said something in return. He should have confirmed her suspicions. Instead he waited, counted her slow uneven breaths before he took her hand from his cheek, uncharacteristically kissing the palm, returning it to her lap before reaching for her, pulling her in, kissing her like he should have every other time. He should have been more sincere before, less hasty. He should have kissed her in the abbey, soft and purposeful. He should have kissed her that morning as they stood in the deserted village.

He should have kissed her in the carriage, when she told him of all the things she wished to do in her life. Niklaus should have kissed her the night that she burned the garden and he watched ash fall into her hair- knowing long before Ines had breathed a word of her mystery that he was connected to Lyanna. Niklaus would always be connected to Lyanna and it had nothing to do with his mother's curse, Hannah, Anne or any of it. It had everything to do with her, who she was and would always be to Niklaus, the only time he'd felt loved even when he knew he didn't deserve it.

He should have told her then how sure he was that she was right. He did care and was afraid at the same time that the curse had worked. She'd surely destroy him and everything he knew about himself. Lyanna would ruin him love.

His hands dropped to her breasts, fingers tracing the outline, appreciative as she had been moments before. Watching her and she watched him. Her expression changing, breath catching, evening out, then catching again as he brushed over her nipples.

The air between them grew heady, the scent of her hair, skin and burning wax filling the air. On instinct he reached down rubbing her thighs, trailing up the insides, feeling her skin prickle under his cold touch.

She looked at him in a way that made him afraid to break eye contact. What if this was dream? If he looked away, it would disappear and he'd wake in sweat once again.

Her tongue passed over her bottom lip, as he pushed a finger inside her, her hips moving against him, pulling him closer. Lifting herself slightly, she tugged at the sheet, drawing it from his waist. Obliging as it crumpled at his feet, his hand found her side, waiting to direct her down into the bed.

"No," she answered, softly. She moved her hips over him, taking him into her hand and then guiding him into her. They watched each other cautiously, knowingly. There was no turning back after this. No more games. She'd made it too personal now to try to deny it all later.

Slowly she allowed him to enter her. Face to face, hands steadied on his shoulders, his on her hips. At first contact, he could tell she was uncomfortable, her jaw and body clenching in symphony. Too long since her last contact, muscles forgetting what hormones didn't.

Where she was adjusting Niklaus was ready, flooded with lust, too long waiting, not only for the sex but for the moment with Lyanna: recognition, reciprocation, the validation he'd finally get. He'd never been one to be patient or kind with the women had sexual encounters with.

Taking his hands, she folded them on the small of her back poignantly directing as her knees tightening around his thighs.

"Lyanna…" he swallowed, excited, nervous to be truthful. On some level he was aware that he'd entered into something that he'd never be able to extract himself from cleanly.

"Let me show you what love is Niklaus…" she whispered, kissing him, like she knew that maybe he'd never known it, not as she'd give him. That of all the things he needed, the things that he had sought, it perhaps was the one thing he was more desperate for than power, more afraid of than failure and completely unaware of:  _To give without fear, to care without shame, to feel without remorse._

As she started to move, controlling their pace, hips rising over his, lips on his face, neck, pulling back and making eye contact, acknowledging that he was significant. That he was wanted. That she wanted him and cared for him. Niklaus felt a slow terrible pain spread through him. It was sharp in its warning and sweet in its promise.

Never before had he felt more wanted and appreciated- all things that would be agonizing, maddening when they were gone.

His hand slipped from her back, touching her breast, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, amazed at her every reaction, every facial expression. They were all things he'd seen before on the faces of thousands of women but this time it felt different, new, novel again.

As their pace quickened, his hand found her hip and pressed her closer, his other moving between their bodies rubbing slow small circles, listening to the shortness of her breaths, experiencing everything through Lyanna's reactions- guiding him, instructing him how to continue. She rubbed herself fast and hard against his hand, pulling his head back so he'd look at her.

Lyanna's eyes snapped closed as he tilted his hips, overwhelmed she confessed, "I think about the abbey… you…" she opened her eyes, looking down at him, "This… all the time," she leaned in, their lips catching, then releasing with the first rise and fall, only for him to still her hips, stopping for a moment as to kiss her properly- how she deserved to be kissed, before they continued again. Her face pressed against his neck. Tight, close and loved.

Uncontrollably, his fangs extended, brushing against her shoulder, considering whether or not to follow instinct. As if she understood what he wanted, "Niklaus," she pulled his head back.

"No," she answered gently kissing him. Lyanna might be willing to give him this, allow him a piece of her and show him love in return, but she wasn't willing to be preyed on, no matter how much it suited his instincts. Boundaries… there would always be boundaries with her.

Quick, short, fevered kisses were shared as she tightened around him, forehead falling against his, sweat trickling down between her breasts, hand kneading into his shoulder blades as she finished, followed shortly after by him.

Tangled around one another, he could feel her limbs begin to relax, head resting on his shoulder. Leaning back into the bedding, he closed his eyes feeling her heart pounding in her chest, unaware for seconds if it was his or hers.

Usually at a moment like this, he'd usually lift his partner off of him, detaching himself as soon as possible. But it felt wrong, harsh and even uncomfortable to do that now. Certainly at some point they'd have to move. They couldn't spend the evening this way. Eventually Lyanna would have to return to her own room.

But soon wasn't then. Tugging at the sheet below, he pulled it up and over them. Not even trying to convince Lyanna to move or change positions. With her full weight laying against him in exhaustion, he brushed her tangled damp hair to the side, kissing her neck and shoulder before replacing his hands on her back, pulling her even closer if it was possible.

The heat, he loved the heat that radiated off her body, so comforting and natural.

Where could they go from here?

For the first time in maybe centuries he felt at peace, satiated, demons quieted for moments. But it wouldn't last, he just knew it. Nothing good ever lasted.

Like Adam was to Eve, it may have been meant to be, but Ines was right, this fine of a wine could only come from their poisoned vine.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

To Kol's chagrin Elspeth was more than just an unsavory eavesdropper; she also doubled as a chastity guard. When it came time for her to retire, she made a point to lead Lilly to her rooms and then come back for Kol.

"Really, I assure you I can find my way to my rooms."

The old woman muttered something in Gaelic that not even his trained ear could make out.

"I apologize, I couldn't make hear you," he called to her, feet in front of him as she led him with a single candle down the dark hall.

"It is not your rooms I worry about..." she responded quite briskly.

"Why whatever do you mean?" Kol toyed with her.

Elspeth immediately stopped, whirling around. "I know what you are and what you plan on doing."

"Is that so? And what am I?"

She scowled, pointing to her teeth indicating fangs, as if the old woman wouldn't even dignify what he was with a word.

"You stay away from Lady Lockwood. She is a good girl and will wed an appropriate man."

Kol felt like snickering that he had absolutely no intentions of wedding Lilly so truly there was no need to block that action. But he rather didn't think that taking the time to explain to Lilly how her nurse maid died from the shock of being scandalized seemed nearly as appealing as the activity he had planned for later that evening.

However, he wasn't gracious enough to spare her his typical lewd smirk, prompting her wrinkled finger to jab itself into his chest.

"I know what things like you think about. I will have you know that I have posted someone outside Lady Lockwood's door in case you get any ideas about trying to visit her later."

The smirk that was there moments before sagged a little. This old hag really was out to make his existence difficult while he stayed on the premises.

Turning without another word, she walked ten more steps before stopping in front of his door.

"Good night, Lord Mikaelson," the words dripped like a curse from her mouth. He nodded, watching her disappear down the corridor, waiting until he could hear her footsteps no longer before he set out towards Lilly's rooms. Although he had no real notion where they were in the great house, he was easily able to find them by tracking her scent. And true to the old woman's words, there was a man sitting outside the door, hands folded in his lap, chin tucked to his chest. Kol stepped forward preparing himself to compel the poor fool before he could smell it on his sleeping breath: Vervain.

After minutes of haggling with the man on a fair price for his "lapse in memory" Kol deposited a few gold coins in his fist, waiting until he was almost out of sight before slipping inside the room.

On her side, her eyes popped open as soon as he took his first step.

"What are you doing here?"

Pulling his bed shirt over his head, he moved to toss it to the ground, when he could feel a hand pressed against his chest.

"You can't stay here Kol."

Perched on her knees in bed, her chemise had partially slid from her shoulder; hair now unbraided and mused from sleep. All it would take was one well-placed tug and the cotton would slip from her torso all together.

Reaching for it, he answered, "No worries, your guard will be taking an extended leave..."

His cool hand was quickly slapped away, coupled with Lilly's scolding, "Kol, I meant what I said. You cannot be here."

Well this was an interesting change of events. Standing there, awkwardly naked in front of her, he tried to find the most appropriate position in standing, to best show off his assets, as to clear up her obvious confusion.

Instead of desire his efforts were met with a hardy laugh, "Really Kol, please," she shook her head moving from the bed to retrieve his bed shirt from the floor.

Was he dreaming? Was this the same woman that practically came undone from a simple touch days before? Perhaps it was the coitus, uncomfortable the first time, she most likely worried it would feel the same every time.

"Lilly I understand that before, it was..." the word escaped him; this was the type of conversation that was meant for sensitive men that had a delicate way with words and women. Kol was unfortunately neither. However, if he wished to find Lilly under (or above- now wasn't that an interesting thought (?)) him anytime soon, he would have to muddle his way through.

"Unpleasant," he continued, "But at first," (if he could remember correctly from his other virgin encounters) "it is always that way for," he stopped, swallowing the word, his eyes beginning to roll from the sensitivity of it all, before he stopped himself with the image of Lilly naked again, "Your..." he nodded in her direction.

"Women?" she offered, somewhat amused at his obvious discomfort.

"Yes, but I promise it does improve..." he flashed her, a smug grin, "Remarkably so, or so I've been told."

Shaking her head while she approached, as if she had eaten up every word of his bumbling speech, she pandered, "Is that so?" stopping in front of him, he could feel the heat coming off her body; stimulate his in a pleasant way.

"Yes," he eagerly encouraged.

She leaned in closer, her lips less than inches from his. If he took his eyes off of hers for a mere second he was sure he'd be able to see straight down the neck of her chemise, getting a good view of those breasts he'd praised so much with words and other verbal attributes.

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," she answered, her breath hot on his mouth. He leaned forward to greedily kiss her only to find a wadded heap of cotton shoved into his abdomen and Lilly headed in the direction of the door.

"You may wish to put that on before you return to your rooms. Elspeth has been known to walk the corridors at night. The sight of you might frighten her to death."

 _At least someone would be appreciative_ , Kol thought to himself, rather displeased by her lack lustre response.

"Have I missed something here?" he questioned, drawing the cloth back over his body.

She stopped at the door, turning around to face him.

"Is this about-"

"No," she answered quickly. "I'm sure that the next time, that it will be... it was lovely the first time, Kol."

Women: human, werewolf, vampire, witch or fairy, they were always so horridly bewildering. His hand passed over his over his face, running through hair in frustrated confusion, "Than what exactly is the issue, Lil?"

Her fingers toyed with the ends of her long curly hair, as she seemed a little hesitant to say what she had on her mind.

"Lilly...?"

"It's only..." she drew her hands up motioning around the room, "This is my father's home, my brother's... I- it isn't right..."

Kol realized suddenly exactly what she meant. Their conversation earlier about her family, this was her childhood home. Undoubtedly her nurse maid raised her to believe that a Lady such as herself would stay chaste until she was wed to a proper Lord. Anything but, would be an insult against her father, then her brother and now their memory.

"I know it seems ridiculous to you and I don't expect you to understand. But I just can't."

He knew, she meant more that she would not. She most certainly did not wish to blatantly dishonor the wishes of the men that had been in her life before, and she most definitely did not wish to stain her childhood bed (so to speak) in her father's home, where she'd likely laid awake many nights fantasizing about her future husband and all the pretty things she'd been told as a child- all the things Kol would never be.

A strange feeling crept over Kol, something he hadn't encountered in such a long while that he almost didn't recognize the twinge: remorse. He forgot at times how briefly removed Lilly was from her human existence. And perhaps it wasn't just that.

He suddenly felt as if it were Rebekah looking back at him, reflecting each time she'd let her heart break over something, the disappointment of what wouldn't be. Lilly in that moment was no different from his sister. She was just a woman, standing in front of a completely unworthy man, wishing for more.

And for the first time in his life, for that brief moment he wanted to be that more- whatever it was.

It was his move; it had been for a while. The only problem was that Kol didn't know the rules to this game but clearly understood the punishment for loss.

Forget the rules, since when had Kol ever been one to heed caution? Swallowing, as if he were some common human male, easily intimidated by the fairer sex, he hesitated for less than a second before he acted on anything but his natural instinct.

Normally, if this were any other female, no matter the species, Kol would have compelled his way into their bed or been out the door before their first words were uttered. His instinct told him to be crass and explain to Lilly that if she were harboring the belief that not rutting under her family's roof still somehow meant that she was pure, then she was delusional. Part of him considered reminding her that if she believed that this new moral dictate would prompt him into committing to her in a more permanent- human way, then she was clearly trying to manipulate the wrong man.

But a very small section of Kol's conscience, the part he all but abandoned for the past five hundred years, pleaded with him to bypass the first two natural responses and instead go with, "Okay..."

"Okay?" she looked at him suspiciously, as if she were preparing herself to respond to one of the first two instead.

"Yes, okay..." It may have been a risky move- not in its boldness or act of dominance but more from his lack of aggression and overall compliance. It was completely out of character for him, but it seemed as of late, when it came to Lilly, Kol's steady and true characteristics, were in flux.

"I... I understand." One word, how could one small concession feel like a shift in a person's entire being?

"You do?" Lilly's eyes went wide with surprise and then quickly admiration and finally love. They were all the things that made Kol's lapse in defences worth every second.

"Yes," he nodded. A smile broke out over Lilly's face, prompting Kol to make another lapse in character when he promised, "I will not touch you in any way that is less than cordial as long as I am under this roof."

It wasn't a promise of the future, it wasn't a declaration of love but instead something else that meant just as much to Lilly in that moment. As he made his path to the door, Lilly took his hand, tugging him down for the good night kiss she couldn't give under Elspeth's watchful gaze.

As her tongue traced his bottom lip, Kol considered taking back every word he'd just said until her mouth had left his and her hand had pressed the door open, displaying the dark hallway.

"Good evening, Kol."

She had scooted him out into the hall and given him one last lingering look before Kol found himself taking in the view of the granular pattern of the door to her room rather than the other sight he'd imagined not a half hour before.

As Kol slinked back to his own rooms and a cold bed, he found himself wishing that he would have asked for a parting gift before he began his promise.

It seemed being _More_ , was considerably more difficult than he'd originally thought.

* * *

**1492 AD**

**Somewhere Between Space and Time**

Night came in a whisper, stretching smoothly out over the land. There was no sound that punctured the air; it was as though even the dullest of creatures had the good sense to claim silence. There was only a weak wind that moved between the trees and over the grass like a sigh. It brushed against walls and sank into the cracks of stone, the splinters in the wood. Like the bitter breath of a curse, the hollow wind poured into windows and into beds, turning dreams sour with the truth of the world. Creeping into Ines's ear it spoke, each sigh forming the syllables of her name pulling her from the troubled visions of her sleeping mind.

 _She_  was calling. And Ines could not deny Her.

She crawled from her bed, rising slowly from its warmth into the sighing air. She shivered though not from the cold. There was something far worse than a cold breeze lurking in the darkness and Ines was obliged to meet it. Soundlessly, Ines left her bed and stood for a moment neither moving forward or back to her bed. She spared herself a quiet moment to prepare for what was to come. Then the moment passed and Ines rushed into the night.

Through the forest her feet took her. Each moment another sigh fell over the land.

_I-_

The disjointed voice crooned to her, guiding Ines in the dark.

_-nes_

And though this was not her first time and surely not her last, Ines could not stop the erratic beating of her heart as she rushed after the sighing wind. Gathering her hands to her chest she pressed down on the curve of her sternum as if to smother the sound of her fear.

_Ines_

The wind sighed again, pulling her onward like a marionette on a string. Feet crackled over leaves and twigs beating at the silence. Suddenly the air was thick with sound echoing in her ear, the pounding of her blood, the crinkle of her foot prints over the ground, then the sigh.

_Ines_

It seemed louder now, perhaps even demanding. At the center of her chest, the brisk murmur of her beating heart replied, "I know, I know." Further still into the forest, into the dark, Ines slipped past trees, over rocks, and through the underbrush. Never once did she even consider stopping to catch her breath or to soothe her aching feet. There was no time to spare. There was no room for disappointment.

_Ines, Ines, In-_

Then nothing. No wind. No crinkle of the forest below or sway of the branches above. To step through a wrinkle was a strange thing. The world contorted or perhaps the person did but either way the feeling was that of a camel being pulled through the eye of a needle. For a second and an eternity Ines was stretched so very thin and pulled through and through. There was no Ines for a split second. There was no sight or sound, no taste or smell, only that sensation of pulling and pulling from the center.

Her senses returned all at once, tripping over one another, falling into the wrong places then hopping back and forth. When then had finally realigned, Ines felt in her belly a queer feeling settle like a disease. A window to her right showed rain bleeding over stained glass but the light played tricks and the water seemed to bleed the wrong way. Ines could hear the sound of it inching upward, screeching on the glass.

"You disappoint me, Ines," came a voice; the sound of it was like a thin steel wire cutting down through the air.

It was a woman who spoke. Before Ines was she was seated in a chair that seemed more like a throne. Behind her was a fireplace; a blaze that was more like the mouth of hell. The chair was of dark wood as though all of the evil and goodness in the world had been reduced into one color and painted upon that throne. It was delicately decorated with images of war and death but of life and peace as well. In the wood there were monkeys turning to men and devils kissing feathered ladies and if Ines stared too long and looked too hard she could have sworn they moved. All the pictures acting out the plot of their tragedies and victories, they were forever doomed to live within those moments.

The woman was dressed simply, the flickering fire behind her colored her dark skin orange and red. She was the picture of youth and freshness with rounded shoulders and flesh that was full and smooth. There was not a blemish upon her small frame. She had no deformity or defect that could strike the sort of fear into a person that Ines felt. For it was not a woman who sat upon that throne, it was not a god or a devil, neither beast nor angel. There was no word for what she was, only a name.

_Silas_

"There have been complications," Ines mumbled but regretted the words as soon as they passed through her lips.

Silas moved quickly with deadly precision. In less than an instant she had Ines's face in her hand. The smooth dark skin of her fingers felt like knives coasting over Ines's skin. At any moment they could sink down into her flesh and make red ribbons of her face.

"Complications?"

Her breath was sweet as it moved over Ines's face, getting caught in the witch's hair like she was nothing but dark sap and sugar inside. Ines knew better for whatever lay inside Silas was nothing so natural as sap and sweetness. The shifting flames of fire captured in a hearth, cut living shapes into the walls and floor. Ines shifted from her right foot to her left, her bare feet turning cold against the stone.

She opened her mouth to speak but Silas raised a hand causing the witch to silence. This unearthly being backed away, turning her eyes to the flames of her large fire. Ines had thought it strange that she could not even feel a bit of warmth from it. She could not feel the chill of the rain either. She was numb.

"Complication was the point, Ines. Distraction, interruption, hindrance, that was your job. And yet Niklaus moves closer toward his goal. As I recall it was your responsibility to make sure that did not happen," she drawled her tone betraying no concern.

Of course Silas was not concerned. What was a bug to a god? What could a blade of grass be to the whipping wind that tore trees from the earth? What concern was a sad boy with a sad purpose compared to her? Niklaus was of no concern to Silas. He was a pain, a headache, a mosquito buzzing in her ear. It would be far too appropriate to simply squash the annoyance between her fingers, if only she had the time for it. That was why Silas had people like Ines. It was such a pity when they failed her.

"You should know by now that I'm not at all tolerant of failure, Ines."

"I haven't failed you yet."

"No, not yet," she said softly and again Ines caught the smell of her breath, the sweetness of it turning her stomach, "And you won't because if you do there will be consequences, for you and everything you've ever loved. Am I understood?"

The water dripped up the glass and the wooden figures squirmed and shrieked without sound. Behind Silas the mouth of the hearth seemed to yawn wider as if to swallow Ines whole.

"Yes."

"Go now, Ines and do as I bid you."

Ines nodded, her body shaking as she turned and stepped back through the wrinkle, leaving Silas alone with her flickering thoughts.

Staring into the fire, she smiled to herself, reading Ines's mind, knowing what she'd do. Her hand reached out to the fire, fingers twisting the flames as the image appear below:

Niklaus, he was so enamored by his human and fighting it so violently at the same time. She could see the poetic saga that was waiting to play out. The hunter that had been sent, by his mother in penance for the crimes she'd committed against Silas, would do as she was created.

There was the doppelganger, so blissfully ignorant- so much potential. It was a pity that she wasn't one of Silas's. The brothers believing themselves to be so clever, so put together, so in control of their emotions and situation, were crumbling at the seams. Their alliance splintering with each day that past as the hunter and the doppelganger she sought to protect, fissured relations between them.

There was such symmetry in human's existence. They were born, lived only a short while and then they died, returning to the same dirt from which they were made. No matter how many centuries, millennia that passed, it seemed nothing ever truly changed. They were always the same stories, replaying themselves in new bodies.

This tragedy however, was one of the more amusing ones. She remembered the first, fondly. Samson was made of such weak will. He was so easily manipulated. God had given him the strength of the unearthly but cursed him with a human mind. And his Delilah: possibly the first female hunter of any kind.

I was a calamitous, lamentable affection, one that crushed Samson in its dissolution. If Hashem hadn't intervened, stepping over the bounds of what had been agreed upon between himself, Lucifer and Silas; finishing him out of benevolence, the story would have had a different ending.

Silas wasn't nearly as forgiving of those who betrayed law. And unfortunately for Niklaus, there would be no intervention in this story. This Samson would have his Delilah for his short while and curdle in grief after its demise.

There was a price for insolence, one he'd pay many times over.

* * *

**Eltham Palace**

**1492 AD**

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. It could have been minutes or days. It was the combination of sunlight filtering through the window, the smell of Lyanna, and freshly brewed black tea that woke him.

Sprawled on his stomach, he could see his drawings neatly collected and stacked next to the bed, smudges of charcoal on the bottom of the cotton sheet from where she'd lain and he could hear human breathing. Rolling onto his back, he found her.

Sitting in the small alcove she had wrapped herself in the sheet from the bed, body fitting snugly in the stone frame, teacup in hand, a sketch of his in her lap, fingers tracing the frosted outlines of the widow that gave her privacy from the King's Alley below.

Had he seen more beautiful things in his life? Yes, of course he probably had. Could he remember a time in particular? No. At that moment, he was sure (as he would be in the future) that for those few brief seconds he had seen perfection.

What had he done or rather what had he allowed her to do? She shouldn't be here. Where had she gotten that tea? Who had seen her or knew that she was here?

His plans to help her cause, one slip up for them and it could all be ruined. All it would take is one person finding her here, for the Parliament to have some type of witness to their suspicions that Niklaus had an attachment to this woman and reason to therefore discount his testimony of her innocence.

Watching her somehow, for a short while, he didn't care. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.

But as soon as he was warmed by the image of her, he was somewhat repulsed by himself. Hadn't he slept with thousands of human women? Hadn't he screwed royalty and beauties that would forever be immortalized in famous art, writings and history?

Klaus had, had women crawl after him on their knees: promising all they owned, their lives, anything for a moment longer with him. He should have forced her to leave last night. He should have stopped it from happening or even beginning long before.

He was supposed to out manoeuvre her. She was supposed to fall at his mercy. He was the seducer not the seduced. But as he watched her in the window, tracing her patterns, drinking her tea, he realized he had lost. He may have been a killer but so was she, only she didn't know it yet and she was so much more precise, agonizing, in her execution.

Niklaus Mikaelson was in way over his head. He'd never get out now. Not intact, anyhow. Lying there watching her, he prepared himself for all of her possible reactions. Perhaps she'd woken in an unfamiliar place and wished to take back every word from the night before. Mayhaps she traced words of regret on the panes of the widow and was stringing together words of contrition into a speech to deliver when the time was right.

At least she'd pretended to care enough to wait till he woke. She wouldn't slink from his room in the early hours of morning and avoid him like a disease for the next few days.

It was funny the pretty packages insecurity wrapped itself in. Behind layers of wisdom, life experience and grey indifference, there was still a twenty something year old human, standing outside a door, realizing that every word he'd spoken had been in vain.

"You shouldn't be here."

She turned to look at him, tea cut dropping to her lap, sheet slipping, exposing faint black smudges from where his hands had been the night before, like a road map of every touch.

The doubt he felt, painted over her face with his abrupt greeting. Before she could answer he continued, "Do you regret it?"

"What do you think?"

He didn't answer, mostly because he was sure she would. Nothing good could ever stay. Five hundred years and that he knew that for sure.

"Will you give me a reason to?"

 _Possibly every day for the rest of eternity, but wasn't that the risk they had to take?_ he thought.

"I don't know."

He rose from the bed, making his way to her. Taking the tea cup from her lap, he drank from it as she reached up, sheet falling to her waist, pulling him down, the taste of tea leafs fresh on his lips.

"What is this?" she questioned, holding a sketch of his out for him to see.

It was a rough drawing, a faceless woman, back turned, hand reaching out towards the fire in front of her.

"Just a sketch, Love…."

"Yes, I can see that. But of whom?"

He didn't know for sure, but he assumed it was her. He'd dreamt it, days before.  _A woman waiting for him- he could sense it. When he was near, she had looked over her shoulder in his direction before stepping forward, like she was immortal, right into the fire. Flames licked their way up her skirt, through her skin, it singed her hair but she didn't cry out, she never screamed. And no matter how loud he'd call after her, begged for her to come back, to not continue, she wouldn't listen. Instead, she'd only paused, glancing over her shoulder once more, before continuing into the light._  
  
He had tried to follow her but he couldn't. It was too bright and then darkness had swallowed him whole.

"I don't know. It was from a dream." One for which he had no notion of its meaning, as haunting as it was.

"I should have ordered you some tea." No she shouldn't have. She shouldn't be here. She'd have to leave soon but he'd not think of that now.

Forget the tea. He didn't care if he ever had another drop for the rest of his life. He'd gladly take his from her lips, any day of the week.

The tea cup clattered when it hit the ground, Niklaus grabbed for her foot, spreading her legs to press himself between, when he hissed in pain. He looked down at the red letters that were scrawled across his hand, burned into his skin of his palm. Before they faded he read: La via, la vertia, la luce.

"What?" she questioned.

Roughly he grabbed her foot, turning it, before reading the black markings inked into the skin, a heady feeling of nostalgia coming over him.

"What are these?"

Confused, Lyanna replied, "I don't know."

"Did Elspeth do this?" Did the witch know or the wolves? Who would mark her like this? Who knew about the hunters besides himself, Elijah and Ines?

"No. I've always had them."

"Since when?" he asked harshly.

"Um… forever, when Elspeth found me she said it was already inked there."

He studied her for a moment, trying to decipher if she was possibly lying to him. His mind flashed back to weeks previous, before he'd found her in the woods, had Ines's revelation, the abbey, the ball and everything said in between:

_"The full moon is tomorrow, brother. After all these centuries it is finally time."_

_"I've been to see our witch," Elijah paused, "She believes she may have found a way to spare the doppelganger."_

_"What does it matter if she lives or not? She is a means to an end. That is all…."_

_"So she should die for your gain?"_

_He could sense it then, his brother's weakness for the girls, for Katerina and Lyanna. He'd save the doppelganger possibly for himself but surely to spare Lyanna (Elijah's Lyanna) pain._

_"She is human, her life means nothing."_

_"I beg you to reconsider this." Niklaus had warned him to not become so attached._

_"Are you so foolish as to care for her?" Which 'her' was he speaking of? Either would do. It was a pointless question for they both already knew the answer, regardless of his brother's response._

_"Of course not," Elijah lied._

_"Love, is a vampire's greatest weakness and we are not weak, Elijah. We do not feel. And we do not care."_

_And he'd meant it. His doppelganger would die; the little wolf that his brother seemed to toy with would not be far behind. And Lyanna Lockwood, she could write his brother hundreds of letters, inspire dozens of drawings and nightmares. But not even her imaginary God could save her._

_"We did once." And they'd all paid for it dearly._

_"Too many lifetimes ago to matter. Tell the witch not to bother. The sacrifice will happen as planned."_

He had known before Lyanna had come to his room, before the walk back from Henry's festivities, that ever since the ball he'd made perhaps the worst mistake of his entire existence. He was stupid enough to believe again and furthermore to love the one person put on this earth to eliminate his existence, ruin all of his plans and drive him to misery and utopia in same breath.

Niklaus was out of excuses. Before, he could have said that it was simply in his best interest to hate her. Later he could've argued that she loved his brother and he knew Elijah returned similar sentiments. He wouldn't be foolish enough to fall into the trap again.

He had planned for two months, two failed opportunities and last night another, to eliminate Lyanna, but he knew he could never do it. He'd known since that moment in the garden, when she burned what protection she had left and looked at him as if she were wholly unafraid of what would come next.

He'd never let Lyanna die. For he was plenty sure that if she went, so would whatever comfort he had left in this wretched life, littered with disappointments and betrayals. The doppelganger would die, Lilly and Elspeth as well.

Whatever was left that held her to this place, he'd cut those strings and sever the ties she never would have left. He would have it all. He'd break the curse, build his army and no one would stop him. Mikael would be nothing but a smudge on a dusty country road. Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and even Finn, they'd never have to fear anything ever again. And he'd have Lyanna.

Maybe his plans were loose and fast at that moment. Not every detail well thought out. Many contingencies he'd later wish he'd accounted for. At the moment, however, he didn't care what his mother had tried. Niklaus didn't care about the warnings Ines had subtly tried to give.

He needed to believe that it wasn't the curse that made him feel this way. That she wasn't drawn to him as he was her, because it was forced. And that maybe then, for the first time, he'd finally gotten something right between him and Lyanna.

Esther may have had plans but she couldn't have accounted for this. Lyanna might have been leading him into hell, but that was a chance he was willing to take. Dropping her foot, he pressed her against the chilled window. Unfolding the sheets, kissing her neck his hands slid up her thighs before he pulled her forward, entering her. Lyanna's head fell back, legs wrapping around his waist, "Niklaus… I'll never regret you," she promised.

If he ruined this, there would be no going back. There wouldn't be second chances, so he'd have to make sure that he did it right the first time. No mistakes, no apologies. As they moved against the window whispering promises and encouragements to one another, Silas's prediction came true.

Had he never loved her, he could have had it all, everything he'd ever wanted- or close enough. She didn't need to cut his hair to overtake Niklaus. His Delilah killed him slowly with love and affection, poisoning herself at the same time.

It was possibly his last chance at happiness that he grasped at greedily, not caring about the consequences.

Lyanna pressed him closer, inviting him in, wholeheartedly, committing.

Three days they'd spent in London together. The only time Klaus would ever be able to look back at his life and clearly remember what bliss felt like. He'd never take Lyanna to Rome, Spain, the Ziggurat Mountains. They'd never do all the things he planned, when he decided to turn her. But those three days would be the best and subsequently later, the most painful of his existence.

He was right, no matter what he'd keep Lyanna forever just not the way he had intended. Nothing ever worked out the way Niklaus planned.


	5. Love Is Not a Victory March

Baby I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know)  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
and love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

there was a time when you let me know  
What's really going on below  
But now you never show that to me, do you?  
But remember when I moved in you  
And the holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you  
And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

**Hallelujah- Lenard Cohen (Jeff Buckley and others)**

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

When the Mikaelson brothers disappeared sometime during the morning and into the afternoon, Lilly knew exactly where they had gone: to feed. Katerina blissfully unaware was easily entertained by Trevor who'd mysteriously dropped by. To Kat, it seemed like happenstance but to Lilly it was the changing of the guard. A message that they clearly felt both her and Katerina couldn't be left unattended and for what reason? If the wolves decided to come, what could the two brothers possibly do to hold them off that Lilly could not? To her knowledge Kol was not any stronger than she, any more adept at healing. And did they not have Elspeth? But it seemed her spells could only last a short period of time, her strength weakening considerably with each attempt.

Maybe she was irritated that they would stay because of her circumstances with Kol. It was like a scratch that could not be itched, an elephant in the room. Only it was one of her own making that he seemed to be tolerating with much greater ease than she.

"Kat?" Alone, taking their noon meal (Trevor had slipped out of view to do God knows what) she considered that life would be so much simpler being Katerina, seemingly never taking anything seriously.

"Yes?"

"Do you care for Trevor?" If only she knew what he really was, Lilly wondered if Katerina would be able to act the same around him. In truth, she often couldn't.

"As much as I do any man," she replied flatly.

"But have you never cared for just one man?"

Katerina's spoon was still in the bowl as she looked down at her soup. It was a simple enough question, one for which the answer should have easily been  _No,_ but that would have been a lie. She had, once, almost two years past cared for a boy. Dark hair and pale green eyes, he'd worked the fields outside the village and would offer her a smirk and occasionally leave a flower resting on the fence that she passed by each morning. She'd thought she loved him, in fact she was sure of it. She'd never regretted the fumbling, hot, sticky touches they shared in the woods mid day or the way he'd look at her afterwards.

She never regretted the little girl that had eventually come. The only regrets Katerina had was when he left, wedding another girl in the village, one that wasn't shamed. Perhaps another lesson learned: to never be foolish as to always rely on the intentions of sweet words, to always move on before they could from her. It was a lesson she'd thought she'd learned well and applied, until Elijah.

"Yes, I suppose," she finally replied.

"Do you ever miss home, Kat?"

 _Yes,_ she missed it desperately some days, but not the village, not the wooden home they'd lived in. She missed them, her family, those that had sent her away without a thought.

"Home is a state of mind Lilly, those that afraid to leave it are afraid to live."

"I see..." she answered, silence filling the room. Leaving home? The thought had occurred to Lilly a few times over the years, the thought of marriage but that was before everything changed. That was before she knew she was a wolf and before Kol. She'd always thought she'd wed like Lyanna and her mother before. She'd move somewhere perhaps not far and Lyanna's children would someday be friends with her own as she and Lyanna had been. But it seemed that was just a fantasy, or rather a passing wish. Now, Lyanna would never have children, not with Nathaniel anyhow and Elijah, should Lyanna choose to continue that association would never give her children and would outlive her many years over.

But would Kol not do the same? He'd lived many life times, no doubt by now and he would live many more while Lilly was cold in the ground. Perhaps it would be better for her to forget him now. Perhaps it would make more sense for Lilly to stay here and fight with Lyanna, to keep the land, the house and forever her name: Lockwood.

"Affection when real, love, it is something remarkable Lilly. When it is real and if it is returned," or so she had heard. Her mind was no longer was fixed on the boy from her past, mistakes made but instead on Elijah. Katerina knew she only had so many more years left where she would be beautiful. She only had so much time to take advantage of her looks. She wasn't Lyanna or Lilly, she didn't have a permanent home, a family (any longer) and she had nothing to support herself with.

Her affection for Elijah had developed into a series of complicated feelings she wasn't even sure she understood, the root of it fear and desire. A desire of power, security, the kind that Lyanna had, the kind Elijah could give her but more so for that kind of love, affection. The kind Katerina knew he was capable of, the kind he seemed to give Lyanna without hesitation.

Katerina's thoughts sat with Lilly all afternoon, sinking in that all of what she'd once thought she wanted perhaps didn't matter anymore. Wasn't it all a lie in the end anyhow? Her parents hated one another and Lyanna and her brother, the affection she used to see flowing so freely between them was forever splintered, marked with lies that couldn't be undone. Perhaps Lyanna didn't care that Elijah would out live her, that he was the least prudent decision she could make. She loved him, cared for Elijah immensely, which was evident to anyone who saw them together. And in the end, did Lilly not want the same, whatever time she could have with Kol, as long as she could make that feeling last? Was it wrong of her to feel so?

It didn't feel as if it was anymore.

* * *

**Eltham Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

A gold coin passed from Arthur's hand into the kitchen maid's. He may not have been a Lord, a welcomed guest in the rooms of Eltham Palace, but at times there were advantages to being of lower birth. He could pass through the stables and kitchens of the palace unnoticed and unbothered.

Arthur could seek information from those who were more knowledgeable of things than the Lords of the pack who were too busy with social obligations. He could pay for the priceless information that passed from their mouths.

"And where did you take the morning's serving of tea?"

"To Lord Mikaelson's room," the older woman crooned, falling just short of the information he wished to know. Holding her hand out once again, she waited until he finished depositing another gold coin into her palm before she continued, "It was not the Lord that answered."

"Yes, then who?"

"Lady Lockwood..." she paused for effect, "In bed sheets, no less..." Arthur smiled to himself, exiting the hot stuffy buttery. He knew it, from the moment he saw them together in the garden, the way Lord Mikaelson had stood so close to her and disappeared not minutes after she had left that first night.

The vampire was attempting to go through the widow to get the stone. Unfortunately for him, Lyanna Lockwood would be dead before she could tell Lord Mikaelson where she'd hidden it. If the blood sucker wanted that moonstone, he'd have to kill Arthur and the entire pack to get it.

In the meantime he'd be more than sure that Lord Morris and Bosse were apprised of recent revelations and that their loose lips would spread the good news to any and all who were willing to listen to contrary claims of Lord Mikaelson's tainted proclamations of Lyanna Lockwood's innocence.

* * *

She stayed in Niklaus's room as long as possible until it was absolutely necessary that she go, people were stirring in the halls, preparing themselves for the day. She'd attempted to leave earlier, have her tea, speak with Niklaus and then go, long before the neighbors around Niklaus's room along the corridor, had risen for the day. But her plan was spoiled as soon as he rose, cornering her against the window, reliving last night's activities, only the second time he made sure that he was in control.

Her body smudged against the window, breaking up the frost that coated the panes, replacing it with steam. Afterwards, Lyanna rewrapped herself in the sheet, looking for her chemise on the ground, attempting to solve the issue of how she would return back to her rooms, especially so underdressed. She'd no sooner slipped the cotton over her head, untangling her hair before she felt the back being lifted, hands, running over her thighs, legs prompting her to step forward towards the bed.

_"You need to leave," he'd whispered behind her._

_"I was in the process," Lyanna murmured as his hands grouped her breasts freely._

_"Perhaps once more…" he commented, guiding her down onto the bed._

_"They are stirring…" she warned, on her back looking up at him as slid her chemise up over her hips._

_"And they shall being doing that same thing, minutes from now."_

_"Minutes?" she questioned, eyebrow quirked._

_"Greedy, Lady Lockwood?"_

_"Unimpressed…."_

_He might have come back with some witty quip to match hers, but instead preferred action. Spreading her thighs, he was quick to sink into and smile at his own prowess as Lyanna closed her eyes, mouth dropping open._

When she'd finally left his rooms, it was after he'd set out ahead of her, clearing the long corridor, compelling the guards that stood at each end to break form their posts.

She'd rushed down the halls slipping behind her door without throwing Niklaus another glance and stayed there most of the day without company. Lyanna walked through the grounds that morning. Bundling herself head to toe, she wandered through the dead gardens, where plants remained covered by a thin layer of snow. She passed the King's Alley, nodding to the guards she saw along the way, staring up at the murky sky, threatening rain or snow. Later when she returned to her rooms, avoiding everyone else at court, she curled into the chair staring out at the Scalding House, she thought of the night previous, her current circumstances and Elijah. Lyanna spent the morning thinking of Elijah. What would he say now if he knew? Would he understand? It was hard for Lyanna to believe that he wouldn't, that she couldn't tell him anything and he wouldn't be somewhat understanding. What would she do now?

Her fingers brushed over the inscription she'd penned into the cover of the book:

_"True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness."_

_Elijah,_

_I found love and life in the garden and there it will always stay._

_My Love,_

_Lyanna_

Lyanna would always search for Elijah as he would her. Two souls that understood one another with perfect clarity and perhaps would never meet as they once did. But years from now, Elijah would hold that tattered copy of Petrarch, the cover worn, the binding broken, the pages yellow and brittle and know that he'd found Lyanna again, that perhaps he lost her for only a period of time.

She didn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, but when Lyanna woke it was to a relatively dark room, only a few candles lit. Her eyes adjusting to the change in light, she couldn't see him but knew he was there.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you," he looked down at the book at that sat open in her lap and the text scribbled inside, not quite able to read what it was that she'd written but he could clearly make out Elijah's name.

"Is there something wrong?" Isolated all day, she would have preferred to think this a social visit but she knew better. Niklaus didn't make social visits, he wasn't courting her. Whatever had passed between the night before and that morning was one thing but it wouldn't continue into the day.

"You went walking this morning, down the King's Alley, through the gardens..."

She stared back at him without response, not that she was surprised that he stalked her movements, more Lyanna felt she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, especially Niklaus.

"You won't do it again."

"When I ask your opinion I will take instructions, but until then I will answer to neither you nor anyone else."

He may not have smiled but from the soft flicking of his expression, however slight, she could tell he was mildly amused. Always trying to set a territory with her, it seemed some things would never change: Lyanna wouldn't be controlled no matter the circumstances but that wouldn't stop Niklaus from trying.

"You understand that they are watching you?"

"Yes."

"They do wish you dead and will do whatever it takes to accomplish that task..." he continued indifferently.

"I'm aware..."

"And still you choose to ignore my prudent advice?"

"Some would rather die free than caged."

"A shame we can't ask those that 'died free'," he snickered, before pulling a blade from behind his back. Extending the hilt in her direction he nodded towards her gift, "Take this if you insist of chancing death, I can't be wandering around after you every second of the day."

Lyanna looked at the blade indifferently before picking up her book, leaning back in the chair, continuing her reading.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Niklaus commented, somewhat annoyed, "That desperate to die?"

"No, I don't need it," without breaking eye contact with the page, she dug through her skirts, retrieving a blade, somewhat smaller than the one he offered her but just as capable of doing damage if used properly.

"You think I'd walk these infested halls without it?" she questioned off hand.

Niklaus smirked, Lyanna, always full of surprises. "Do you know how to use it?"

She licked her finger, turning the page, "I seemed to do just fine, when I stabbed you... twice," she added.

Yes, he remembered. It was strange for a Lady to know how to use a blade, even semi effectively.

"And who taught you, might I ask?" If he'd taken a moment to really think of the question before he'd asked, he might have guessed the answer.

"Nathaniel," she replied looking up this time. It was foolish, perhaps it was just the tension of the day, all the little games Niklaus had been forced to play that he was unaccustomed to, but the mention of his name, sent a shot of irritation through him.

Nathaniel Lockwood, two things it seemed Niklaus would have to grapple with, the hunters and their strange, irritating connection with the Lockwood name. Perhaps it was a coincidence? Lockwood was a common enough name, spanning back centuries, even to the village they'd lived in as humans.

There'd been a family of Lockwoods back then. A father and son, the mother had passed with another child. He couldn't even remember their names, just the boy, perhaps a year or two older than himself. Dark hair, dark eyes, he could still somewhat recognize his face. It was strange the things that stayed with you over the centuries and others that were lost.

"You keep in on you at all times then?"

"Yes."

"Be aware of those you keep around you, Lyanna. Even those whom may seem benign, their intentions may not be."

He'd meant serving maids, page boys, guards and any males that lurked the halls. The irony of which, is that he really should have meant himself.

"I have very little friends here, if any at all, I am aware of this fact."

"I would not say any," Niklaus hinted, although he wasn't her friend. They had never been friends. Whatever was happening, had been happening between him and Lyanna was nowhere in the realm of friendship. It was something much darker and desperate, filled with brief moments of euphoria that always seemed to crash into bitter agony.

The fire that burned often a little too bright and too hot.

"Goodnight to you, Lyanna…." He finished, turning to leave, as Lyanna sat forward in her chair, reaching out for just a second before retracting her hand. Perhaps it wasn't logical to ask him to stay. It wasn't becoming either, to be so in need of his time, possible affection. So Lyanna stopped herself from saying a word but Niklaus had heard the brief hesitation all the same. And although it wasn't much, it was enough to leave a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

She may cling to his brother, she may still hold loyalties to some man he never met, but Lyanna wished for him to stay and even though he left all the same, that was enough for him.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

The muted click of her shoes sounded through the hallway. In her ears she could hear the sound of her blood pumping. Faster and faster, it flushed over her cheeks and at the back of her neck, the heat building. It made her head spin but she pushed on towards her destination.

When she had went to his rooms to find Elijah to speak with him perhaps frankly or at the very least, to try to say something that could fill up the silence that seemed to engulf them now when they were in the same room, she was surprised to find him still gone.

Perhaps it was wrong. Truly it was a perversion for her to enter his rooms without him present. It was deceitful and pathetic for her to look through his things, but when she found them, the letters from Lyanna: one addressed to her, Lilly and Elspeth, she couldn't help herself. Her fingers were slipping through the seal and reading Lyanna's possible last words to her before she could allow her guilt to catch up with her curiosity. What she found later, she would wish she hadn't.

Katerina felt dirty. Her fingers tightened around the paper in her hand. They were nothing more than ink and pieces of paper and yet they had made her feel ashamed. She had felt like a child peaking in on lovers in passion. No, it had been an even greater, deeper invasion. She had violated their love and found herself wanting. Amongst his things, of all the stacks papers he seemed to keep, the unread fare thee wells that she'd found from Lyanna, Katerina had discovered the letter Elijah had been given. And it was there that he found her, sitting by the fire in his room, reading his personal communications.

"Katerina," Elijah greeted, as she continued reading, not bothering to meet his gaze. "I am not in the mood for company."

She almost scoffed but she bit it back.

"Pity," she said, her tone as sympathetic as she could muster but made no move to leave.

Feeling another arduous encounter coming, he continued inside to the place where he'd left the brandy he had brought from Harte manor. Pouring himself a large helping, he sat himself across from Katerina and hoped that she would quickly tire of whatever it was that she had planned on saying.

He hadn't even noticed that she was reading a letter, but a particular letter of interest to him. He was lost to his own devices. Katerina imagined that it was dear, sweet Lyanna who occupied his thoughts. His eyes closed momentarily, drink resting on his knee, head falling back against the chair.

Standing quietly, her gaze strayed to the hearth. The orange and yellow flames writhed in their cradle, fiery tongues licking out at the stone, hungry for what she hid behind her back. She moved towards them her pace slow, almost languid.

"I may not speak French, Italian, or Spanish but I can read English just fine," she said plainly, her jaw gritting together towards the end.

Perhaps she should learn. Maybe that would make him want her. She could learn the lines; play the part of the good, honorable, and kind lady but it would just be another mask. Elijah had already seen the beast the lay in her belly. It had crawled up her throat and when she smiled it peeked out between her teeth to greet him.

"How very nice for you," he mumbled, his words like cold murder.

Still he would not look at her. Even as she moved closer and closer to the hearth, precious cargo in her hands, he refused to give her anything more than his loathing apathy.

Katerina paused in her trek and took a shuddering breath. There was a crack in her resolve but before it had a chance to splinter, she took the extra half step to the hearth. She waited for him to realize her game. The pages in her hand fluttered and Katerina could not decide whether it was anticipation or pure unadulterated rage that made her shake. His indifference infuriated her but it frightened her as well. How very much like dark, still water he was but Katerina had stones to throw.

"I read the letter, Elijah," she said, the words tumbling heavily from her mouth.

"You read wha-"he began to droll, the irritation already evident in even the first syllables as he opened his eyes.

Her grip tightened at the feel of his gaze upon her. The papers crinkled and the sound of it matched the flames that cackled besides her. She took one piece and without any hesitation tossed it into the greedy flames.

Suddenly he understood what she meant by,  _letter._

Elijah opened his mouth to scold her but before he could even get out a sound she dropped another. A smile began to form. Like a child testing their limits, she reached for another.

"Stop," he murmured in a daze at first.

The fire cut holes in the pages of Lyanna's letter. Her promises and pleas, her love, they were burning before his eyes. He sat up.

" _STOP_ ," he roared rising from his seat.

Fixing her mouth into a tight sneer, she took hold of another sheet and tossed it into the flames. The fire ate up the ink and paper.

"I said stop, Katerina!" he shouted lunging at her.

Pulling back, she avoided his angry hands long enough to take the last pieces of the letter in her other hand. She twisted her arm back just out of his reach.

"Why?" she taunted her tone like that of a spoilt brat. "Why should I stop, Elijah? Why do you need them?"

He grabbed at her but she slipped her thin shoulders and limbs out of his grasp once more. Elijah was too focused on the letter.

"Were you going to hang them on your wall?" she goaded him further. "Sleep with them under your pillow. Do you think they'll keep you warm at night?"

She stretched her arm back even further as he drew her closer reaching for the papers. Knowing she would lose soon, she twisted away from his grasp again. Then in one great sweeping motion she tossed the rest of Lyanna's letter into the fire and for a moment the world stopped.

Elijah paused in horror as the flames ate at her letter. Then he snapped into action brushing Katerina aside. He reached for the poker attempting to salvage anything from the fire.

"You're pathetic," she snapped, watching him grovelling.

Yet she wanted him all the same. Even as he agonized over another woman's love, pitifully reaching for what little pieces of her he had left, Katerina wanted him. She craved him and everything of him, his love, his devotion and even the horrible parts, the darkness. Katerina would swallow him whole if she ever got the chance.

"Lyanna," Elijah whispered as the last pieces of her letter faded to soot.

Of course he would say her name. Katerina wished she could carve that name from his mouth along with his tongue so that he could never speak it again.

Elijah said nothing as he watched the flames consume what may have been the last words Lyanna would ever give him. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught the sight of a small corner of white. It had fallen just out of reach of the fire. He took it his left hand from its place besides the fire. It was warm in his hand but crunched in half as soon as his hand closed around it. With the last piece of Lyanna's farewell crumbling to hot ash in his hand he felt weightless, dizzy even. It was as though someone had filled him with hot air and released him into a storm.

"I wonder; do you ever get tired of yourself Katerina?" he inquired as he rose and turned to face her. "I find you awfully exhausting." At one point she had been so light, so free, almost refreshing in her childishness. Now it seemed the only side of her he would see was much darker than the girl he chased in the gardens.

He watched her struggle for a second looking for the right knife to throw. She didn't miss her cue.

"Quite the opposite really, I find my own company to be  _invigorating_ ," she said a lascivious sneer forming on her face but he could see it slipping already. The cracks in her mask were proving to be more trouble than she had expected. "Perhaps you just lack the stamina. Your brother did not."

Elijah laughed but it came out a dry and bitter bark. At his laughter Katerina's smile had slipped completely. The sour taste of his own amusement turned his stomach but he took his time stopping. Somehow it always came down to that. Even after hundreds of years nothing had changed. Even now he was caught up in the same game that pitted him against his brother. Though Elijah would have liked to believe that he and Klaus were different, the antithesis of one another, it was impossible. They shared blood. The only difference was that Klaus had the nerve to take what he wanted indiscriminately. Like a fire he devoured everything in his path, everything he touched.

"Don't touch me," she said her voice shaking as he moved towards her. "Don't you dare touch me after what you have done."

All of her spite and poison shot at him with those eyes that glared, but he could see it. The way she moved, breathed. She wanted something from him and she would get it one way or another. In a way she was more like his brother than he ever was: clawing and tearing at anything they wanted, so hungry for something they couldn't quite name. Elijah had forgotten what it was like to be hungry.

"And what have I done, Katerina?" he whispered stopping in his tracks.

It was a pointless question. He knew exactly what he had done and what he was about to do. He had grown tired of wanting and never taking. The paper in his hand had cooled completely now but it may as well have still been smouldering. It burned him. He reached out for Katerina with his other hand. With the look on her face he half expected her to bite him but she did not. He touched her cheek with something like tenderness and her gaze softened. She had been starving for him and any morsel now seemed like a feast.

"You have ruined me," Katerina replied her words trembling.

Elijah could feel the breath of each syllable brush against his lips. The back of her neck was warm as he cradled it in the palm of his hand.

"And I will ruin you still," he mumbled as a sincere promise.

There was a moment of hesitation, a single pause for a shuddering breath. Then they crashed into each other, falling into their kiss. Katerina's hands clawed at him trying to claim any piece of his she could find. They were a frenzy of teeth and nails digging into each other, taking handful. It was dreadful bliss but his left hand remained clenched around the last piece of Lyanna's farewell the soot of it staining his palm black.

However as soon as it began it had ended. If Elijah wanted, he also knew that there were many things he could not have. Lyanna was one and his brother's disregard all together for compassion and loyalty, Elijah could not even attempt to fake. He was who he was, as Klaus would forever play his role so would Elijah.

"Katerina, you know not what you want." It wasn't meant to be a plea, more a simple observation. Lyanna had unknowingly involved herself in a struggle between him and his brother: Elijah to keep one thing even temporarily and Klaus using the widow as an example of loyalty. Katerina willingly threw herself into the fray, perhaps not yet understanding the pain of never truly having what a person wanted and the greater things at play.

"I think I have clearly demonstrated otherwise," she replied, solemnly, untangling herself from him.

"Katerina, I respect you. Perhaps you do not see it or it is not clear to you."

"You avoid me as if I had the plague," she shot back, clearly spiralling towards a hasty reaction.

"I do not avoid you. I simply wish to respect you." That was of course before she had invited herself to his rooms, broken into his private thoughts and then burned what she did not agree with. At the moment Elijah felt anything but respect for Katerina. Desire? Yes, to take something from his brother in complete defiance but soon the clouding of the reality of their situation was bound to ruin even that moment.

"To act irrationally, to paw at you or accept these types of advances would be the acceptance of the devaluation of your worth," something Katerina seemed willing to toy with at every whim. She changed herself around men's affections, but who was really behind all of the different masks she wore for everyone?

"My worth? You toy with me at the ball and now you are concerned of my worth?" she shot back, acridly.

She was right, how Katerina was accurate. They were just humans, nothing special, nothing to invest in but as Klaus had accused him, he'd done so just the same. Elijah had entangled himself into a situation from which he couldn't cleanly exctract.

"You are worth more than something to be disregarded or favoured by men in passing." Who was the girl that he'd chased that day in the garden? The girl that asked him if he had ever loved? Where was the shade of Katerina that was so patient and sincere all the many times they had spoken before? She was there it seemed, just a different colour in Kat's never ending repertoire. One moment she could be innocent as a child, the next as lethal as Samael in the Garden of Eden toying with Elijah's free will, luring him down a dark, deliciously lascivious road. But before he could maim her with his indifference she was always able to show the other side of Katerina Petrova, the part that was bitter and sweet, vulnerable and still quite formidable.

She made it impossible for him to ever quite disregard her.

"Your kind words are steeped in condescending venom, Elijah," Katerina replied, shifting into a mirror of him, something cold, clipped and indifferent.

When she moved to leave, the realities of embarrassment crept into her cheeks and her words to Lilly taunted her, in her ears,  _affection when real, love, it is something remarkable Lilly._ Only she had forgotten the key part,  _and when it is returned._

"Wait," Elijah reached out, his hand gently falling on her arm, holding her back," "I only meant, I do not wish to betray your trust. You once came to me as a friend and I prefer to not poison that confidence."

 _A friend, what was a friend but just another word that would pass between her and Elijah?_ Katerina was ready to spew off similar sentiments when she looked up at him and saw that he was quite serious. There were moments, which Katerina wouldn't understand then but would haunt her intrinsically over her 500 years on the run, when Elijah would bring her back from the brink of self implosion.

So many times, during the long game of cat and mouse they would have in front of them, Katerina would try to convince herself that she hated Elijah as much as Klaus. But she would never be able to despise him, even when he hunted her like a rat in a field.

Perhaps it was this conversation, this small building of trust, mutual respect; even if later it would be antagonistic.

"Then you claim that I am your friend?"

Many a man had claimed to be many things to Katerina but no man had ever asked for her friendship, her confidence first and whatever it was that they desired whatever carnal interests they had in her, later. Was he not a friend at one point to Lyanna as well? And did Elijah not hold the widow Lockwood (from Katerina's perspective) in the highest of esteem?

"Yes of course you are."

There was always a fragile state of trust between Katerina and Elijah but it was there just the same, building from those first uncensored, sincere conversations where she had asked him, if he loved and he told her, he did not.

What a sad existence that would have been for Elijah. But long after Lyanna's passing, years of toiling and seeking, he would realize that which he hunted he also desired. And the friendship that he had lost, the Katerina she was in these moments and many small ones to come, would always be  _his Katerina._

* * *

**Eltham Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

Cold hands slid heavy used material over smooth olive skin, pressing the woman's back against the wall. Pushing her thighs apart, cerise viscous fluid, gushed from her femoral artery as Niklaus greedily drank from the prostitute.

Eyes closed, mouth screwed shut, her hands dangled at her sides as he supported her weight whilst he fed. When her pulse crept to a slow throb, he unlatched himself from her blemished skin, wiping his mouth as he dropped her skirts, rising from the ground.

"Auriel," his hand made contact with her face, jostling it side to side, bring her back from her temporary stupor.

"Yes?" she answered weakly, her eastern accent thick in her semi daze.

"What have you to tell me?"

When her eyes flickered closed again, as if she were falling into a brief sleep, Klaus grabbed her by the shoulders shaking her forcefully this time, "Auriel! I have not the time for this, what have you heard?"

"They will send for her," she replied, eyes fluttering for a few moments before falling open once more.

"Who? Who wishes for a trial?"

The prostitute licked her full, flushed lips as she came to, running her fingers through the heavy curls that had fallen from her intricate braid.

"Three, two are unsure and one promises guilt."

"Who are unsure?"

"Lord Kaelan and Lord Catullo." Both were men of Parliament that associated with the men of the border lands, they had strong ties with Scrathclyde and its interests.

"And the other, the one whom promised guilt?"

"Not here. They call him Bram, Lord Bram," she moved to step forward but teetered as her head swam from the loss of blood.

"Who is he?"

"The men wouldn't say..."

Over sixteen hours had passed since Niklaus had purchased Auriel from her broker, sixteen hours and three men. She had visited the three offering her services throughout the night and into the morning. More lies had slipped from the men's mouths (blood laced with Vervain or wolf) between the thighs of a pretty whore than they would have in weeks of manipulation or other means.

"If she goes, he will come..." she added, looking at him blankly as if she were pulling the exact spoken words of another from her mind.

"Can he be persuaded?"

Auriel shook her head, filtering through the conversations in her compelled mind, piecing together the sought after information into an informed reply.

"Can he be bought?"

"No."

A man that couldn't be compelled or bought was a dangerous man, especially one that was part of the Starred Chambers. The other two, those that were uncertain, they would need persuading: the kind that came from certain innocence or proven guilt.

"Auriel," he commanded, motioning for the woman to come to him. Mindlessly she did as she was instructed. "You will go to Lord Bosse and instruct him that you are a gift to both he and Lord Morris from the king."

He reached into folds of his houppelande, producing a small vial with Wolfsbane. "You will stay with him throughout the night. If he instructs you to leave, you insist again that you are a gift. Do you understand?"

The loose curls of her dark brown hair fell over her shoulders as she nodded her head in agreement.

"You will put this in his spirits and you will be sure that he and only he shall drink from the cup. And he will drink from the cup, at any cost," Niklaus threatened.

"Yes," she answered, the word dropping from her mouth as she continued staring at him wide eyed.

"When Lord Morris comes, and he will, and asks you who sent you, you will say Lady Lockwood."

"Yes," she smiled, foolishly, mindlessly as he tucked the vial into her small, soft hands. She was a beautiful woman, all soft curves, doe eyes and red lips. A face that could have conjured up buried feelings of another lethal beauty- one he'd been so desperate to please too many lifetimes ago to matter.

But in the end, a pretty face or not, death all looked the same. And before the thirty sixth hour passed, the expression she used to lure men in would be forever frozen in a grimace.

* * *

**_Scrathclyde_ **

**_1492 AD_ **

_Lilly looks side to side, but everything is coated in darkness. Her skin that normally burns hot prickles with chill. Cold feet on stone floors and the smell of mildew, incense and blood seems to be everywhere. She can hear it: muffled grunting and sounds of punctuated collision of some objects, reverberating in a thunderous slapping that echoes around her. The hairs on the back of Lilly's neck stands on end as she follows the noise through the darkness that lies ahead of her. With each step the sounds of a struggle grows louder._

_It's almost inhuman the types of noises bouncing off the ceiling and floors. She knows that she should stop but for some reason her feet keep moving, pushing her forward until she sees it: light ahead. Two, three, four more steps and the never ending hall opens into a circular room. Light pours from a skylight above, so bright that its blinds Lilly momentarily. Shielding her eyes, she squints until her pupils adjust and she finally is able to bear witness to the horror before her._

_Where there was caution before, bitter abhorrence runs through her now, sweat trickles down her neck, blotting into her chemise. On the dirty floors, in the centre of light, he hovers above her. The grunts are his and hers: the man in satisfaction and her in struggle. Her skirts are pushed up over her hips, her hands clawing at his face and his hands everywhere, at once: her mouth, her shoulder (forcing her down), her torso (attempting to hold her still), and her legs (forcing them further apart). She doesn't scream or yell, cry out to anyone for aid. She only fights back the only way she seems to know how, anticipating his next move as he does hers. But his movements are somewhat faster, in-human._

_Every hair on Lilly's body stands on end, from the terror of what she's watching and something else, a kind of instinctual rage that she can't place. Her legs move without her permission. She should be running forward, throwing him off, screaming for help, doing anything. But instead she circles, stepping to the left- not forward, fanning out around the crime, watching as the silent observer._

_He continues thrusting into her, in a fit of rage and she continues attempting to fight him off, until his bends his head, fangs extending and Lilly understands from where her guttural rage stems. He is inhuman and she knows what he is and what he's attempting to do. The faceless woman, whom moments before was struggling is now lying perfectly still as if she is preparing herself for him to finish: fuck, feed and then kill her without another thought._

_Lilly's stumbling forward before she can think, hands outstretched, screaming at the top of her lungs for it to stop but neither seem to be able to hear. The faster she moves, the further away they seemed to be and the more desperate Lilly becomes until the predator's body slumps. Falling lifelessly it smothers the woman beneath, as if he's been dead all along._

_With a long, pained sigh- a breath that seems to drag out for hours, the woman rolls the body from hers, kicking it to the side. Covered in blood, blade in hand, she rises from the ground, pushing mattered strands of blond hair from her face._

_"Lyanna..." her name, drops like a stammered cry from Lilly's lips. And she can feel it, a type of pain she's never experienced before. It's so sharp that she feels as if it is cutting right through her. The weight of it is so heavy, it knocks her to ground._

_On her knees she stares up at her beloved sister that looks back her as she has never seen her before in her life. Skirt torn, face bruised, blood is smeared and dribbling down her exposed thighs, puddling at her feet._

_"Lyanna?"_

_She gazes back at her, wholly unfazed, her expression so halcyon that Lilly can't breathe because she's choking on her own tears._

She's choking...

Lilly's eyes flew open as she shot up in bed, gasping for air; she wiped the wet trail that stained her cheeks with shaking hands.  _Lyanna, what had happened to her Lyanna?_

Closing her eyes, once more, Lilly took several deep long breaths, trying to calm herself.

 _It was just a dream. Just a dream..._ She repeated to herself multiple times, but she knew it didn't matter. She'd never be able to erase that image from her mind, making even the shadows in her room seem desolate and haunting.

With clammy hands and shaking legs, she crawled from bed hesitating for only a moment in the hall, wondering if she was making a mistake.

It would make her a hypocrite, but she didn't care. Creeping down long dark halls, she stopped when she found the right door. If she was scared, in need of company she could have sought Katerina's warmth to soothe her. But Lilly didn't want Katerina's presence, she needed Kol's reassurance. So without further thought, she pressed against the handle, slipping inside.

Leaning against the door, she tried to wait a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the consuming darkness, hoping to find the bed and slip inside without rousing Kol from his sleep. She should have known better. He'd heard her coming long before she'd turned down the last hallway. He could smell her before she'd even reached the door.

"Is this not an interesting turn of events?" he whispered with a smirk she was sure.

When she didn't answer, refusing to move from her place of distance, the silence stretched out between them. Kol could sense that something was wrong. In fact, he knew from the moment she'd stepped into the room. Fear, he could smell it in the air or rather just on Lilly and he was apprehensive as to how to handle it.

Emotions, comforting, a few weeks with Lilly couldn't change centuries of habits and humor, called for or not it was always more comfortable than raw emotions. However, it seemed that as of late, Kol was far from practicing anything even close to familiar.

Fighting against his instinct to throw out another joke, one much cruder than the first, he requested instead, somewhat hesitantly, "Come here," in a way that was anything but sexual.

Eyes finally adjusting to the light, she could see that he sat, hair mussed, pulling down the bedding beside him, in nervous welcoming. Obliging, she crawled onto the feathered mattress next to him.

"I had a dream... there was a man, he was one of you..." she started, quite indifferent, "He forced himself on Lyanna and then tried to feed from her," there was a long pause before she finished, "She killed him. Lyanna carved him in half. I have never seen anything like it."

Kol had, too many times to count. Perhaps not the final part but the beginning, he'd not only seen, he'd done it, more than a few times. He'd spent centuries compelling women as he fucked and then fed from them. It was natural, normal, common place amongst them and every vampire he'd sired in close to 500 years.

Natural it was, until it came from Lilly's mouth. Something he'd done thousands of times suddenly sounded much different then he'd remembered and in that moment Kol was troubled that such an image, as she described, had passed through her mind.

"It was a just dream, Lilly," he answered, hurriedly almost afraid that perhaps she was thinking something even remotely similar to the flashes of hundreds of memories that passed through his mind.

"It didn't feel like one, Kol. She looked at me as if she'd never seen me before. It was real Kol. Something is coming, I can feel it."

Kol could as well, the guilt of knowing that the things that haunted Lilly's dreams would perhaps soon be true- Lyanna would die and the doppelganger as well.

"It was just a dream," without thinking he reached out, hand touching her face, stroking her hair.

"I promise Lilly, nothing terrible will happen to you." Perhaps not her, but to everyone she loved, yes.

"I didn't dream of myself, Kol."

"I know..."

"Kol?"

"Yes?"

She had come because she was worried about Lyanna but about other things as well. Katerina was right. How long would Kol really stay at Harte Manor? And when he left what did that mean for her?

"I don't want to end up there."

"What do you mean?"

Before Kol really understood what was happening, Lilly had slipped her chemise over her shoulders, tossing it to the ground.

"Lilly, I think you should go back to your rooms," he said somewhat regretfully, forehead wrinkled, feeling as if he was being tested and likely would fail.

Lilly slid her leg over Kol's, crawling into his lap, "I do not wish to be miserable like my parents and Lyanna now. I don't want to wed someone I do not know. I do not want to stay here and fight over these lands."

Not days ago, she was corralling him from her rooms, insisting on keeping up some charade of propriety- caring about what her deceased father and brother would think of her. And now she had stripped herself bare, contradicting everything she'd told him previous: all those conversations about home and family.

"Then what do you want?"

Lilly thought of her dream, Lyanna dead, staying here forever and even though she knew she'd feel guilty later for saying it, she admitted, "You, just you."

* * *

**Eltham Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

She arrived outside Lord Bosse's rooms in the late hours of evening claiming that she'd been sent as a gift.

"And who may I ask sent you?" in a state of semi undress it was obvious that he wasn't alone.

"The King, My Lord," she answered so sweetly, seductively that if he were any other man it wouldn't have been a question.

There was a shuffling somewhere inside the room, as a voice called out, "Let her in." Medium build with pale skin and reddish brown hair, Lord Bosse was a plain man, in his middle thirties, wed with three children. Relenting he moved from the doorway granting Auriel access to the room.

"Lord Morris and I were simply discussing business."

His houppelande wrinkled, hair mused; the tall dark hair man was considerably more attractive than Lord Bosse. Seated in a chair by the fire, wearing a fake calm expression, Auriel didn't have to be a mind reader or a fly on the wall to understand immediately what she'd walked into. Only nine and ten, she had spent a great many years in the brothels of London and in that time had seen every shade of want and desire. From acts with animals, young children, objects and in particular the taste of some nobles for young men and boys.

"Of course, My Lord," she nodded, politely. She'd obviously interrupted some tryst between the two men and from the way they looked at one another, less guilty and more lingering, she immediately understood that this was perhaps not a fetish, an occasional occurrence but instead an ongoing thing.

"I however, will not be in need of your services this evening," Lord Bosse answered, somewhat politely.

"Come now Irvin, perhaps you should not be so hasty," his partner commented, his voice seemingly cordial but somewhat strained.

It was a difficult situation both men had been put in. No one of the court knew of the relationship; both wed with children and for years they had been discrete, perhaps their wives having their suspicions but even the pack was somewhat blissfully unaware of their feelings.

If the pack found out, if the court knew, both men would be ruined. They were fools to slip away in the night, with the pack, men of their lands, taking residence in rooms along the corridor but love wasn't always rational and both men, desperate for moments alone would chance suspicion just for the night.

"Neil, I really do not think-" but he stopped when the comely man held up his hand.

"Irvin, come now, I'm sure the king would be insulted if you refused, word spreading that perhaps you do not agree with his tastes," he added somewhat poignantly, nodding in Auriel's direction.

Lord Bosse knew he was right, if he denied Auriel whatever small suspicions there could possibly be about the two men, their interaction and their friendship would only be fuelled by the prostitute's dismissal and stories of arriving at the Lord's rooms in the dead of night only to find Lord Morris there.

"She's beautiful, is she not?" Neil questioned as he rose from the fire walking over to Auriel, his hand stroking her hair, tracing her back. It was less carnal than what she usually experienced. Normally when a man would touch her it was out of desire, this was more in appreciation, an inspection.

"Yes, she is, Neil."

"Should you not enjoy her?" his words however seemingly encouraging were lined with a hint of contention, which was truly thinly veiled jealousy.

Like a rag doll that had been pinned between two armies squaring for battle, Auriel smiled, dipping her head. She'd come before two jealous lovers before and knew it was best to keep quiet and let them define the playing field without her input.

"Yes, I think perhaps I might," Irvin answered, taking the bait. A heavy silence fell over the room, thick with tension as he tentatively reached out touching her arm.

"Undress yourself," he requested somewhat quietly. Obliging, Auriel began unlacing the front of her gown, olive hands, slipping beneath heavy fabric. The entire time Irvin never took his eyes from his partner. When the dress snagged in the back, the prostitute unable to fully unclothe herself, Lord Morris stepped in.

"Here, let me assist you." Fingers worked at the back of her dress, pushing long dark hair over her shoulders exposing her as the material sagged at her waist then slid to the ground. Pressed against her back, Neil ran his hands over her midriff, eyes on his partner as he kissed along her neck.

Irvin had gone flush, his shoulders stiffening, clearly annoyed, "Should you not be leaving now, Lord Morris?"

Sucking on her neck, his lips popped from the skin when he answered, satisfied to get the reaction from Irvin that he clearly sought, "No, I think I'll stay and have a go after you are through."

As Lord Bosse advanced towards her, the jealousy, lust and tension palpable in the room, Auriel knew it was going to be a long night of service.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

With Niklaus gone, things had become remarkably simpler for Ines. Both of the other brothers detained with their interest in the ladies of Greyshaw Manor, she was finally given room to act on the promises she made Silas.

If everything were simple, Ines would have spelled the brothers, sought to divide and then conquer Niklaus and Elijah, even Kol. But the Mikaelsons were much too intelligent to be out matched by a witch at that juncture. They took Ines from her home and thought themselves so clever. They believed their arrival to be a surprise, but in truth it was Ines that had been expecting Kol. She'd seen him, in a vision from Silas years before, when she was still a girl. And she had waited close to two decades for his arrival. In her premonition, she was young, much younger than her current age. Ines never took into account that she'd have a child, another person's safety that she would have to consider. But wasn't that always the way of Silas? She'd give her children, her minions, only the absolute necessary information and then play them like the pawns they were in her game.

A pawn, Ines would be, but to which ruler? Klaus, whom held her child in some unknown location with the female of their group or Silas? It wasn't until after her arrival that she understood that her daughter's internment was not Niklaus's leverage against her; more it was Kol and Rebekah's leverage against him. Klaus needed the witch to break the spell, but Kol's loyalty to keep Ines cooperative or so they thought. When she was taken, she worried not for her child's safety in the hands of her captors but more at the whim of Silas. Ines was in Scrathclyde to do her bidding, not theirs. If she failed, her daughter and every child in her line would suffer a torture Ines didn't dare consider. If she succeeded, her child would survive, slipping out of the grasp of the Mikaelsons.

Ines's life, however, she knew from the moment she stepped foot onto the Mikaelson lands; she'd never see Spain again. Her body would rest in this damp soil, on these cursed lands and her soul, would be in the hands of Silas. But until her task was complete, her daughter was not safe and so if Ines could not use magic against the Mikaelsons she would use those around them that were weak.

When Trevor arrived in the bowels of Harte Manor he looked at her so plainly, so lost, completely unaware of what had drawn him there. Even if he'd somehow had the premonition to attempt to fight off her spell, he was not an original, his abilities for mind control, of both others and his own was sorely underdeveloped compared to the original five.

"Come in Trevor," she greeted, back turned, feeling him there long before he'd thought to speak a word. Like a mindless puppet, he entered Ines's humble dwellings and listened to her soft, persistent whispers that would lull him into submission.

Ines took a simple infatuation, an attraction, and breed it into an obsession, a need to possess. She'd easily separate Trevor from Rose, by using the strongest motivator known: love or its imitation. She would spin a lie so tight in Trevor's mind, that he'd be convinced of his affection, desire, need for Katerina. He'd be so intent on her survival, so subject to her charm that he'd risk his and Rose's existence, making one foolish mistake that would send them both running for five hundred years.

* * *

**Eltham Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

Sun peeked in through the uncovered windows as Auriel dressed herself quietly in Lord Bosse's discarded bed shirt that lay on the ground, looking at the naked man curled on his side. Lord Morris had left before morning, long before anyone would be wandering the halls of Eltham palace.

 _You will give him this,_ Klaus's voice echoed in her ears, becoming a central focus point in the prostitute's mind.

 _The vial, the vial, give him the contents_ , the same mantra of thoughts raced through her mind like a never ending song. Reaching into the pockets of her wrinkled gown, she retrieved the yellowish powder. Pouring a cup of tea, she uncorked the small vile, watching the contents evaporate into the hot brown liquid.

 _Wolfsbane..._ the instructions seemed to echo out through the room. Her knees sunk into the feather mattress as she brushed hair away from Irvin's eyes.

"Lord Bosse," she coaxed, her fingers dancing along his face, "Lord Bosse..."

Opening his eyes, he looked up at her somewhat perplexed before he remembered the night's activities and who the strange woman was that was leaning over him in his bed.

"Where is Lord Morris?"

"He left early this morning, My Lord. He said however that he would return sometime this afternoon."

Sitting up, Irvin rubbed his hand over his face, "And how long will I be enjoying your company?" he asked flatly. Moving in on him, before he could react, Auriel's lips found his somewhat unexpectedly as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, her free hand curling under the sheets until she had him in her hand.

"As long as you like," she murmured, lips against his mouth as she started to stroke him. Confused and overwhelmed, Irvin reached down to stop her, "Really that is not necessary-"

When Auriel kissed him again, "My Lord, I am here as a gift for you..." her hand picked up speed as she continued, "Perhaps you could close your eyes and imagine someone else..." as an unsubtle hint.

Still unconvinced, he obliged shutting his eyes for a moment as she continued her ministrations. Although unwilling at first, he quickly allowed himself to imagine someone much more preferable as she kissed his neck, her fingers dancing along the head of his cock.

"Perhaps you would prefer something else?" she suggested, looking up at him, his mouth somewhat agape, head tilted back.

Opening his eye, annoyed by her interruption, he hardly had time to answer when she handed him the cup of tea, "Drink, My Lord, while I put my hands and mouth to better use."

Taking the tea from her hand, Irvin was so distracted as Auriel's mouth made contact with the base of his cock, images of Neil, fantasies of his lover and not the prostitute rushing through his mind, that he didn't smell the Wolfsbane in the cup.

Not even a minute into Auriel's performance, he smiled, hand resting on her head, the other bringing the cup to his lips as warm tea splashed into his mouth. It took less than seconds for the gurgling sounds of the Wolfsbane working its way into his bloodstream to halt Auriel. Mid pump, she sat up as the tea dropped from Irvin's hand, brown liquid spilling out over the white sheets and his exposed legs, burning the skin it touched from both the poison and the heat of the tea.

Eyes bulging, he gasped for air, gripping at his throat, thrashing side to side. Moving out of his grasp, Auriel stood and watched as Lord Bosse slowly choked to death from Wolfsbane poisoning.

* * *

By the second day, Lyanna had stopped leaving her room for meals. Everywhere she went she was followed by Lord Bosse's or Lord Morris's men. She couldn't step foot into the corridor without seeing either man or someone that was clearly doing their bidding.

But a person could go stir crazy that way. Her interactions with Niklaus had been minimal.. As the hours ticked by Lyanna, book in hand, watched the Scalding House from her window and wondered what her fate would be.

When she could take it no more, she slipped out into the corridor in the very early hours of morning. To her surprise her shadows weren't there. They must have tired after a full day of no activity.

Hands ran over the tapestries that lined the walls as she slipped down long halls, nodding at guards as she looked cautiously into open rooms, exploring.

"Some say that it is rude to wander as a guest unattended," a voice whispered behind her. Jumping, Lyanna almost came out of her skin.

She teetered back, legs hitting the table that lined the wall. Offering a hand, Niklaus helped her steady herself.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What are you doing here? Making a quick trip to the King's chambers?" he pointed down the long hall, "Only so much further, just up those stairs and you would be there."

"I'm just walking, no harm in that."

"Hm, down dark halls in an unfamiliar place in the early hours of morning?"

"A Lady can only spend so long in her room."

"Yes, I suppose," he answered, hand sliding down her arm, brushing her waist. "A person could tire of monotony."

His fingers wrapped around her hip, pushing her against the small table in the alcove.

"And what have you been doing?" she meant it to just be a simple question but it sounded a little more like an accusation,  _Why haven't you come to see me more?_ Since their night together he'd visited her only twice and both quite brief. Slipping into her room for only minutes, he'd check on her to see that all was well- that her limbs were all still intact and the wolves hadn't become bolder in his absence.

"Business," he answered simply, her bottom rested on the table now as he slid her back.

"Niklaus?" she questioned, her forehead wrinkling looking down the halls that had guards littered throughout but suddenly were empty. Compulsion, he used it without shame.

"Shh..."

Leaning in, he kissed her, teasing, not as greedy as he usually was. Pulling back as soon as she leaned forward to meet him, he left her hanging, mouth partially parted, eyes opening to find him smirking at her.

"What are you doing?"

His fingers toyed with the front of her gown unlacing it slowly, exposing her sternum, before pushing the cloth slightly off her shoulders until both her breast was exposed.

"Niklaus…" she warned, as he reached down licking around the areola, suckling, leaving it chilled by the room are as he moved to the next.

"Niklaus…" she tried again, losing her resolve as her hand ran through his hair, enjoying it, the heels of her shoes scrapping against fabric of his hose under his houppelande as she drew her legs up, knees latching around his hips.

More, she wanted more. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, he seemed to know it. Teasing her further, he released as quickly as he'd begun.

"Niklaus, you have to stop..." she tried, "Someone will see..." the rest of her sentence faded from her mind as he pushed her skirts up over her hips, chilled hands on warm thighs. He'd been so cold the past two days. Both of them pretending as if nothing had ever passed between them and suddenly it was as if they were still caught up in one another in his rooms that morning after she'd come to him.

Hot and cold, Niklaus was always so fickle in his temperament. Dragging her forward to the edge of the wooden table, Lyanna was swiftly losing interest in caring over whom might discover them. His tongue trailed over her neck as his hands slid further under her chemise, helping her part with her ruined small clothes beneath her skirts.

Abandoning caution, she went to reach for the front of his breeches to speed along the process, enough of the taunting. It was driving her mad. If he didn't fulfil his promises she'd scream so loud in frustration that the entire King's Guard would come hurdling down the halls, thinking they were under attack, that Richard III was back from his grave ready to seek vengeance.

Her hands grasped at air, eyes snapping open, she found him watching her, amused.

"What?"

He'd been preoccupied as of late. In truth he'd been staying away for more than a few reasons. This visit was not spontaneous, he'd been watching her, keeping tabs just as Arthur's men had. There was a reason for this impromptu encounter, a purpose that it served but should he not enjoy himself while he at it?

Niklaus's non-verbal response was to press his thumbs into her hips, tilting them into the wood, causing Lyanna to suddenly find herself partially on her back. Confused she attempted to brace herself on her elbows, looking down at him. He grabbed her by the backs of her knees, stockings sliding down her calves. Chilly hands forced her heels up until they were wedged against her bottom.

He looked down at her, spread and exposed, suddenly she felt her skin go hot with embarrassment. Quickly she drew her knees together, only to be met with his hand forcing them apart once more.

He leaned over her, tongue licking over her breast bone, breath warm against her nipples, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, tugging playfully at the hairs at the base of her hairline sending a sharp- not unwelcomed pain up across her head that was tempered by his tongue on her lips, entering her mouth, drawing her in, before he left again.

Surely he didn't mean to take her quite like this? The table wouldn't hold both their weights. The entire castle would hear either the scratching of wooden legs over an uneven floor from their movements or the crashing of their failed attempt at secrecy.

"Stay," he replied to her bewildered look.

Of all the things Niklaus was accustomed to sexually, this type of attention was not something he did regularly- if ever. Going between a woman's thighs with anything but your prick or your fingers was for creatures that cared about the partner's they fucked- were interested in their enjoyment. Niklaus was neither- ever.

The hallway crackled with the sound of compressing leather from his boots as he crouched on his knees, spreading her legs further, nose running along the femoral artery, teeth sharp as needles prickling against her skin.

When he'd finished his path, stopping directly in front of her, exposed, Lyanna suddenly had a premonition of what he'd intended. Instantly she tried to close her legs, only to be met with difficult resistance.

"Niklaus..." she hissed pulling herself up further on her elbows, "Niklaus, stop-" her face had gone sanguine as his only response was to pull her skirts further over her hips before leaning forward, breath warm on her in defiance of her clearly expressed wishes.

"Nikl..a-" the last syllables evaporated somewhere between her head and her lips as his mouth found her wet. Thighs instantly contracted around his shoulders. Lyanna's head fell back, in a mixture of horror and complete empyrean enjoyment. No one had ever done that before. She remembered reading of such things, in a book, dusty, worn and falling apart, buried on a forgotten shelf in the small library at Greyshaw.

She could remember its black binding and... never mind the book. The image went as soon as she could feel Niklaus pull back again, teasing with his breath against her. Cold, his lips left a trail of Goosebumps, which prickled up the insides of her thighs for each inch of skin he touched.

Lyanna turned her head to the side, peering out of the tiny alcove worrying of whom may walk by, trying to think somewhat rationally as she pleaded, "What if someone-" ignoring her protests his tongue made contact with warm wet tissue again, zapping Lyanna of her ability to focus on practical concerns.

Damn them all, Lord Bosse, Lord Morris, the Parliament, court, anyone who would dare interrupt what was happening at that moment. She'd let the entire King's guard gather and watch if it meant he wouldn't stop.

Swirling his tongue, he was precise in his contact, sharp in his verbal movements- no lapping, sloppy movements, he wasn't a dog and Lyanna wasn't water. There was no rush to a quick end. He inhaled, the smell of Lyanna, her skin, her sweat, enjoying every second.

Her arms gave up trying to balance herself in a sitting position on the narrow wooden frame. Her back slumped against the table and wall as she closed her eyes, mouth dropping open, hand wandering down to the place where his face met her body, fingers scraping along his skull, holding his hair tight, urging him forward only to be met with an amused hum, lips vibrating against her.

The whole palace could burn to the ground and Lyanna wouldn't have noticed. Where seconds before his tongue against her was deft, pressurized strokes, her back came off the wall and table as soon as he stopped, preferring instead to suck.

"Niklaus..." she may have murmured his name a half dozen times, her toes curling, causing her shoe to slip from its rightful place, bouncing off the stone floor with a clatter, but neither seemed to notice. The instep of her stockinged foot, ran up his back, fingers tugging him closer, as her thighs began to tense then shake with release, only to tense again, matching his relent with pressure for seconds only to continued again.

She could feel sweat trickling from her hairline, her nails scraping along the wooden surface. Cruel, he'd wait until her legs began to shake and then stop, pulling back, enjoying her frustration. Lyanna's heel would dig into his back, right between his shoulder blades, urging him forward as she rocked her hips in encouragement.

 _Don't stop,_ she wanted to beg, but knew that was what he was looking for. So instead she heeled him harder, fingers touching her own breasts, pinching her nipples, hand wandering down to finish what he started, until he'd brush it away and continue, relenting when he'd seen enough.

He toyed with her like that for minutes, building her up, drawing out every single nerve ending until they fired excruciatingly, her body looked as if it was seizing, rubbing forward, trying anything to finish, before he'd stop again just when he could feel she needed the friction most.

"I hate you," she panted, trying to trap him closer, each time he pulled away. Just a little more, all she needed was a few more seconds.

His hand reached out, feeling along the length of her as she shivered, embarrassingly trying to press against it, only to find it gone and a smirk on Niklaus's face.

"I think you rather like me," he taunted, leaning in again, his lips on her for confirmation.

Yes, she liked him alright. And what she'd particularly love was if the smug bastard would pay her a little more lip service in other ways.

"Lyanna…?" he teased, mouth still on her. Eyes shut; the back of her skull scraped the cold stone, shoulders lifting in air off the wall she'd braced herself against.

"Lyanna…." he whispered again, taking a break from his attentions. Her fingers tugged his hair hard, much more forcefully than what could be considered playful. Damn him, if he didn't finish what he started…

Her hips pushed forward trying to find him again.

"Say it Lyanna…." he coaxed, enjoying every second of watching her squirm, giving her just enough to drive her mad, irrational with want.

His tongue reached out, flicking over her clit; promising the ways he'd reward her if she relented.

Trying to force him forward, hold him still, was like trying to move stone.

"Say it…" he requested again, his breath flushing over her, radiating out across her thighs covered in a thin layer of perspiration.

She had told herself that she'd not give him the satisfaction but with each second that passed, her resolve withered until she finally broke, "Please…" she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, smirking at his victory before he leaned forward to end his torturous little game.

Unfortunately for Lyanna, she wouldn't be receiving an immediate reward.

"I saw her just a moment ago-" the man had yet to even finish his sentence, Lyanna hadn't even registered that there was someone headed in their direction, before she was sitting up right. With her skirts dropped, she felt a shoe being quickly slipped back onto her foot.

Dazed she looked up at Niklaus who seemed completely calm as he pointed towards the opposite hall, "Stay here, Lyanna."

"Hm?" she was light headed, body over charged as he stood moving out of the alcove.

"Wait until you can no longer hear a voice and then go to the chapel, down this hall," he pointed,

"Take your first left," he instructed, before looking poignantly down at her chest. In the hasty shuffle she hadn't even remembered that the top half of her gown was completely undone, breasts exposed for anyone to see.

With raised eyebrows and a knowingly smug look, he nodded down at them before turning and making his way towards the sound of voices. Lyanna glared back, tugging at the laces as she tucked herself back beneath the cloth.

"Should I-"

"Go. I will find you later."

There was hardly time for her to question further, before she could make out the sound of a man's voice being greeted by Niklaus.

"Can I assist you?" she could hear Niklaus patronizing his companion as he led them down the hall, away from where she stood hidden. It was better that they weren't found together. He was right. If she were to trust him and believe that he had a plan to settle her matter with King Henry, Parliament and avoid the Starred Chambers, then this one time she would listen to his instructions.

Pulling herself together, she looked both ways before exiting the small alcove and rushing down the hall. After taking the first left, like she was told, she pushed through the double doors into the large private chapel.

Empty, there were close to a hundred candles burning in front of the altar. Shutting the heavy doors behind her, she walked down the aisle, looking from side to side making sure there wasn't a priest lingering in the wings or someone praying in the side pews.

She hadn't realized it but she was practically panting, her face flushed as she stood in front of the statue of Mary, looking up at the intricate pictures etched onto beautiful stained glass. The confessional area was sectioned off from the rest, two enclosed spaces with a bench in each and a screened wall between them.

Fingers traced over the intricately carved wood. Nails following the prayers stencilled out in the dark oak.

"Now where were we?" whirling around, there was a hand on her mouth, silencing her before she could even attempt to scream.

"It's just me."

Turning so that she could see him, Lyanna started, "How did you get here so-" but was stopped when she could feel herself being guided into the confessional box.

"Shh... love, we may not have long," he answered. Lyanna was distracted from a lengthier explanation, as her knees hit the cold stone floor and his hand ducked under her skirt.

_Her small clothes, she had left her small clothes!_

Lyanna was in the middle of working her way up to being panicked before she could feel cold air hitting her thighs and hips.

"Now what was it that you were saying to me?" he whispered into her hair, kissing her neck. Pressed against her back, she could feel him hard, leaning into her bare thigh.

His free hand made its way to the front of her gown, pulling at the strings that she'd just retied. When the thread caught, instead of stopping, working at the knot, he tugged harder, snapping the string leaving the material to fall open.

"Hm, Lyanna?" he continued to prod, as one hand snaked up her inner thigh, still wet from before. His fingers feathering the length of her before dripping inside- rewarded with a loud, appreciative exhale from Lyanna.

Manipulating his hand it moved so it both rubbed her and explored other areas inside her, bringing back feelings from not even twenty minutes previous. When his other hand brushed along her nipple, tracing the underside of her breast, feeling the weight of it in his hand, she moaned, pressing herself back against him.

The abbey, if she could think coherently, she would be having flashbacks to their ill-fated encounter not weeks before. Oh the strange, horrid parallels they were drawing here. In the small confines of the little area she was thinking she should most certainly protest what he had intended. The last thing she needed was another mark against her soul with God.

Biting down on her lip, she rubbed herself against him in encouragement only to be met with his persistence, "I'm sorry Lyanna, I didn't hear you," he teased, his breath hot on her neck.

She could scream at him, for the time she had thought to deny him in similar circumstances, he'd taunt her relentlessly forever after. Just to prove his point that she'd be foolish to lie to herself again and deny that she didn't want him just as desperately as he did her.

Damn the abbey, only he would find a time like this to bring up that kind of hedonist shame.

As his palm circled her clit, his fingers pulling out, hand stilling on her breast, giving her just enough sensation to know what she could be experiencing, but denying her nirvana, he knew how to eat at her resolve.

She'd relented moments before, wasn't that enough for the evening? She thought so.

Playing his game, her hand reached behind her, burrowing its way between her skin and his covered thighs. Lyanna's head tilted back, face turning so that her lips were pressed against his neck as she began to outline his cock through the cotton of his hose under his houppelande. Lingering on the head, she rubbed the tip a few times, smiling to herself as his palm stopped, obviously distracted.

Taking that as encouragement, she moved her hand up, sliding it under the fabric. Fingers ran down the length of him, much as they had before, her lips and tongue peppering the skin around his throat. Only unlike her experiment previous, her teeth nipped at his cold neck when her she rubbed the head of his cock, eliciting a response that was a little more pronounced. Instantly his hips thrust forward, pushing himself further into her hand.

 _Who was in control now?_ she felt like snickering.

Gripping him, her free hand covered his- the one that groped her breast and pressed it further against the skin as she started to move over him.

"Hm… I think I forgot…" she taunted back as his hips moved forward, fingers toying with her nipple.

Niklaus didn't respond, only nudged her face away from his neck, kissing her. She could taste herself on his tongue giving her a strange, animalistic rush. But Lyanna wouldn't give up that easily. Moving down to cup him further, she questioned, "What was it that you were saying Niklaus?" her words hot and victorious against his mouth.

His lips stilled, knowing now what she was getting at, refusing to press forward and slip his tongue back into her mouth, but not willing to pull away completely either. The challenge was set, instantly both of his hands began to move, both the one between her thighs, fingers reinserting themselves inside her, and the other rubbing her nipple. All of it causing Lyanna to bit her lip and consequentially almost his as well- not even a breath passing between them.

"You were just going to tell me something…" he tempted. She may have been clever but he was crafty, moving just right as to elicit a half moan from Lyanna before she caught herself, holding her breath instead.

"What was that Lyanna, I couldn't hear you." he murmured, wet fingers, tracing her clit.

Her hand dropped from her own breast, tugging at his hose, hastily trying to push them down his hips. After a brief struggle she could feel him in her hand, pressed somewhere between her own skin and the layers of her skirt.

Shifting her hips, she moved so her bottom was pressed right against him pushing up just enough so that he could feel the slickness that waited below.

Sucking in air, Klaus withdrew back further against the door of the confessional, "Now, now, Lyanna," beginning to partially scold, trying to taunt her, before she pressed back into him again, this time poignantly making sure that she made contact in right places, sliding suggestively against him.

His hands stopped, his mind diverting as he could feel himself getting closer and closer to where he wished to be, only to never reach the destination.

Her mouth reached up, tongue brushing over his bottom lip, "I think you wanted to tell me something, Niklaus."

His cock ran the curve of her bottom, his teeth grinding down against each other as he quickly started to lose his patience for their little game.

"I believe you were going to tell me what you wanted," she whispered, knowing she'd won, that in seconds he'd either confess and get what he wanted or let himself spend right there.

"Just… one… word…." And she'd give him what he wanted most; willing to submit if he'd go first.

"No…" he answered, smirking as she frowned. Quickly dropping his hips a few inches, he pressed himself up and into her in one fluid movement. Lyanna hardly had time to react before the backs of her thighs pressed against the front of his, Niklaus supporting both their weights in a sitting position.

As he thrust upward, hand wrapping in Lyanna's hair, tugging lightly, she didn't care anymore that he'd cheated. Regardless she got what she wanted in the end. This is what she was thinking of in the alcove. Releasing her hair, his hand found her breast again, while his hips began to move in pace.

On instinct, Lyanna's head fell back hitting his shoulder, bottom pressing against him with each forward motion. The sounds of them rocking, the squeaking of her hands against the bench, echoed throughout the chapel.

His teeth nipped at her neck. With hands clutching the seat in front of her both for balance and leverage, Lyanna pushed herself back into him further, meeting each movement of his hips forcefully. Eyes closed, mouth open, she was unable to utter a sound as his hand reached under her skirts, burying itself where his tongue had been not so long ago, rubbing brisk, punctuated circles to match their rhythm together.

"Niklaus..." she whispered, the only clear word uttered in the chapel for moments, and was met with a hand on her back, forcing her forward. Fully on her knees, her cheek rested against the cool wood, hands grasping for anything to hold as she yelped with his next move. Grabbing Lyanna harshly by the hips, controlling the rhythm completely now, his strokes become less slow and drawn out and more heated, brutal and fast.

As their rutting became increasingly rough and needy, Lyanna buried her face into the oak seat, muffling her sounds of appreciation while her hips bruised under the pressure from his fingers.

 _Harder,_ was the only thing filtering through her mind- more a prayer than a thought. One he apparently heard and answered.

It wasn't long before Lyanna's walls were contracting, her breath catching at the back of her throat. Fingernails scraped along the ornate wood barrier between the confession area and the priest's box, making a hideous scratching noise. Pulling her up quickly, Niklaus bit into his wrist forcing it against her mouth. Lyanna overwhelmed, mouth opened as she moaned, noises escaping her unknowingly, her eyes closed as the first drops trickled into her mouth.

Thick and smooth there was a strange, bold flavour to the red liquid pouring past her tongue. Like wine that had been aged for decades. In the moment, she sucked greedily as it seemed to encourage him, Niklaus hardening even more as they continued, grunting at her fervour. Releasing around him, finally getting the ending she had considered begging for back in the corridors, she pushed his wrists from her lips, gasping for air.

Pushing her back down onto the bench, he moved two, three more times, before letting out a ragged breath, fingers clutching her pelvis then releasing. Leaning over her, his chest pressed against her back for less than a second before he fell back to the sitting position.

For moments, only the sounds of their recovery could be heard echoing in the small area.

Pushing hair from her face, Lyanna may have stayed on her knees like that, skirts over her hips, bottom half completely exposed for two seconds or two days, she wasn't sure. She was too exhausted and satisfied to care how ridiculous she looked.

Finally opening in the door to the box, Klaus had pulled up his hose and straightened his houppelande.

"I'll leave first," he instructed, as she struggled to steady her legs, crawling from the stone floors, pushing her gown down over her hips, tucking her breasts inside once more she struggled to tie the front with the mangled strings he'd left her.

"Yes, Lyanna?"

She looked up nodding. She would need to stay anyhow, light a dozen candles, douse herself in holy water and pray that it didn't burn her skin.

He wiped his blood from her mouth, "I will see you again soon," looking at her strangely, as if he wasn't sure if he should lean in and kiss her again or just leave. He hesitated, leaning forward only centimetres before pulling back.

Watching his awkward decision making process, her hand shot out, grabbing his houppelande, pulling him in she kissed him, eliminating his crisis. What did it matter now anyways? She was surely going to hell anyhow.

Her tongue slid over his in a few quick strokes, Lyanna tasting herself in his mouth and he in hers before she pushed him away. He was smiling down at her strangely until there was a commotion at the doors of the chapel. Hand to his lips, he stepped back behind the confessional, out of sight, urging her to go forward.

Stepping out into the aisles, seating herself in a far pew as if she had been there the entire time, sitting piously in prayer, she was approached by a boy that couldn't have been more ten.

"Are you Lady Lockwood?"

"Yes."

He held out a letter for her to take, "I've been looking for you for quite some time, My Lady. You weren't in your rooms."

"Yes, I've been in prayer this early morning," she replied, taking the paper from his hands.

"And what is this?"

"A message from the King, My Lady." Lyanna looked down at the Tudor seal, hand shaking a little as she thanked the boy. Opening the letter, the parchment crumpled in hand as she looked up the altar and the statue of Christ. She would need to spend the entire night in prayer.

Stepping from the shadow, "What is that?" Niklaus questioned. Handing him the message he read Lyanna's worst fears. The King would depart for Westminster Palace, his party likely not far behind. It was a request for her to follow.

Parliament had made their decision; one Niklaus was sure was soon to come and he'd planned accordingly. They were taking her case to the Starred Chambers. Lyanna might have her chance to reason with God face to face for her sins, sooner than she had thought.

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**1492 AD**

The air, the room, the sheets, everything smelt like her. Sleeping, Lilly burned so hot that the heat radiated across his cold skin. Warmth, how long had it been since Kol had slept in that kind of calidity? It gave him the illusion of being alive. The slow sound of blood rushing through veins, soft breathing- if he closed his eyes long enough, he could pretend to himself that he was human again and that all of this was normal.

They would have moments of complete bliss: heated and drawn out or even as simple as the comfort of the other's presence, silence. For anyone that claimed that love was an illusion, they had clearly never been in it before. Fresh, still in its infancy, yet to reach the full potential of what would pass between them, even then Kol was sure that he'd rather die than leave, than face the reality of knowing that this couldn't last forever.

"Kol?"

He hadn't even known she was awake, had opened her eyes she laid on her side, watching him, in the early hours of morning, the sheets bunched at her waist, head resting on her hand.

"What will happen to us?"

His fingers were inching closer to her, they had been waiting for over an hour to touch her; afraid that he'd wake her if he did, but now they stopped short on the feathered mattress as Lilly waited, anticipating some type of reassuring answer.

He didn't have one.

She laughed, almost nervously, commenting, "Is it such a terrible thought?" the smile dropping from her face. She looked at him with such affection that it made him sick: the blind trust she had in him, when Kol was so undeserving.

Everything she loved, everything Lilly held dear, Klaus had every intention of stripping them from her one by one, before ripping the life out of her, himself. And Kol would stand aside, watch him do it and not make a sound of protest.

"What?" he finally responded, turning his head, unable to look at her when she watched him like that, so intently, able to feel that he was lying to her, holding something back.

"A future with me…." No, it was painful in its divinity and cruel in its impossibility.

"And what do you think that future would look like, Lil?" Even as he spoke, he dreaded what she would say, the images she would paint- that they would haunt him after she was gone with the horrid memory of what could have been.

If life was Plato's allegory, Kol at this point would have claimed that ignorance was not only bliss but the only benevolence left in life. To finally see fire, feel its warmth and wander out of darkness to discover light, only to realize that you'd spend the rest of eternity in it alone. That he would feel the sun on his face, appreciate the intricacies of life, enjoyment, happiness as it was made to be had, only to be left, soon after discovery. He'd rather take the cold, darkness and only see the shadows of the fire, than tolerate the loneliness and knowledge of the absence of its heat.

"I don't know anymore…."

"Are you still holding on to it?" he asked softly.

"What?"

"Your humanity, Lil, do you still want it, all of it?"

Humanity was such an ambiguous word. But Lilly knew what he was asking. Did she still want all the things she'd dreamt of as a girl? Did she still wish to have children, a husband, a simple life?

They both knew she'd be lying if she said no. She wasn't like Kol. Lilly hadn't been given eternity, her body frozen in time. Where Kol had no choice as to what his destiny would be in some respects, Lilly still knew that she had options.

"Are you asking if I still want it or if I would be willing to let it go?"

Both. Their entire conversation up until that point was simply musings, nothing grounded in any sure reality. If Klaus had his way, if Kol meant to protect his family, Rebekah, he'd let his brother have the doppelganger, do whatever he wished with Lyanna and kill Lilly for sport- tying up his loose ends.

It was all hypothetical, until she answered his silence.

"If you're asking if I still want it all, then my answer is yes. I cannot help myself. But if you are wondering if I am willing to give it all up, if I could let that go for you, then you already know my reply."

He turned his head, to find a slow smile spreading, "I fear we have taken each other's innocence," Lilly's fingertips trickled from his temple to his lips.

Kol's thumb outlined the underside of her breast, "I don't recall you begging me to stop," he taunted, hoping to redirect her attention, elevate the anxiety he suddenly felt racked with.

"That was not the innocence I was speaking of… but you know that."

He may have thought months ago that he'd defile Lilly, pervert her innocence with every lascivious act and thought he'd enjoyed over his five hundred years of existence. But it seemed that it was Lilly that had spoiled him. She'd planted a seed that would rot him from the inside out, the outgrowth of its hyphae diffusing around the rigid walls he'd constructed, from stone to dust they would crumble. Until he was no longer sure, what was originally him and what was her influence.

"It's too late now, to consider going back."

She was right. In the end, no matter how much Kol cared for his siblings. How he wanted to see Mikael dead for their safety, it was either Kol's life of theirs, his happiness or Klaus's victory- all of which would be short lived. Kol knew without a doubt, that hybrids, breaking the moonstone curse, even Mikael dead would never satisfy his brother. Klaus's happiness would always be elusive and whilst he wallowed in his misery, he'd make them all suffer with him.

Did Kol not deserve more? If Elijah wished to be his brother's lapdog, Rebekah, his prized lost possession, that was their choice. Kol was nothing to any of them not before, now or as it seemed ever. But he was something to Lilly.

"And the rest of it?" Lyanna Lockwood is what he meant, Greyshaw and Katerina dead. Could she let all of that go? Children, a life of stability, marriage: they'd have none of that with one another.

"It seems those were nothing but childish dreams."

He'd never be the fantasy she'd been told stories of as a girl. He'd only ever be himself, as ugly and wrecked as he was.

Could she run forever, from everything she knew and once loved if that was what she was running with?

"If they were dreams, should you not hold on to them to still? Wish for them to come true?"

She blinked, studying the uneasiness of his expression. He seemed to never believe anything she told him. Perhaps she'd have to keep telling him, every day, for as long as it took for him believe that, "They already did."

"I was what you wished for?" he answered, unconvinced, disappointed that she hadn't aimed higher, as if he thought there was something more worthy out there for Lilly.

"I didn't know what I wished for…." Pushing herself further up on her elbows, moving closer, "But I'm sure, you'll do just fine," she quipped, leaning in, kissing him.

She may have been as close to perfection as Kol was ever going to reach. As surely as he tried to ruin everything in his life and toy with the limits of those around him, seeing how far they could be pushed before they wouldn't come back, he'd test Lilly.

Unemotionally, he promised, "We'll never marry Lilly. If you think that will change, then you are mistaken."

It was a pathetic sticking point. Why should marriage matter to someone that would live forever? But each time he said that, it had its desired effect, nudging Lilly to pull away out of resentment and perhaps her own insecurities.

Fully sitting, she didn't hesitate, with her leg pressing against his, sheet falling and leaving her bare, dark curls hung over her shoulder as she reached for his hand.

In the bedroom of what had been her father then her brother's home, in the bed that should have stayed pure until she wed, Lilly began, "You may not wed me, Kol…" she pressed his fingers against her right fourth finger, before tracing a circle of an imaginary ring around it, "But I have wed you. Perhaps not in a church and not with the father's blessing but wed you all the same."

Kol swallowed, unsure what to say.

Why did she want him so terribly? No one ever wanted Kol. He was always an afterthought, if even that. He wasn't entirely sure that she was serious until Lilly finished, tying herself to Kol for the rest of her existence, "Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be mine. When you die, I will die. And there I will be buried."

She was giving him a promise no one had ever offered before and he realized he'd never want again.

So this was what drove the masses mad with want? Sent men to their graves without thought? Kol once thought that hope was possibly the most ridiculous of human emotions and possibly the most dangerous. But he was wrong. Love, in its idiocy and perfection was the most potent in every way.

"Lilly what if I were to say we should run together?"

There was four days until the next full moon. They only had so much time.

Lilly swallowed, watching Kol carefully before answering, "And go where?"

"Where ever you wish." Where ever it was the Klaus would never find them. Kol had been considering bartering with Klaus for Lilly but he knew his brother. He'd never give her up. Not that Lilly was of any great importance to his plan but he'd decided long ago that she would die. Lilly would be his werewolf sacrifice and once Klaus had his mind set on something, he was immovable in his resolve or more he would make sure that if he were still miserable no one around him could find happiness.

"What of Lyanna, Katerina, Elspeth? Do you really wish to go, Lilly? For I can almost promise you that if you stay things will be exactly as you hope they will not."

Could she really leave it all behind? Could Lilly just leave in the middle of the night, with no explanation, no goodbye?

"Yes, I want to go."

"Then we will. If this is what you want Lilly, then we can run together, far away from all of this,"  _far away from Klaus,_ is what he thought.

"When?"

"Tomorrow?" The sooner they left the better. They had to put as much distance between them and Greyshaw Manor- Scrathclyde as possible.

"No, not until I see Lyanna again."

"Lilly," it was imperative that they leave before Klaus returned. Elijah may be more forgiving but his loyalties would always lie with Klaus over Kol. He'd let them go, if only because he knew the doppelganger was of greater priority to his brother than one werewolf. But sure enough he'd track them down later. Elijah and Klaus would hunt Kol and Lilly until their deaths, but wasn't all of it worth it? Kol would rather spend decades running than even a year without Lilly.

"No. I will go with you, but I will see Lyanna first."

A compromise, not the first of many he would have to make with Lilly.

"We will leave the day of the full moon. That morning, before the sun rises, you will meet me in the forest. There is a widow's cottage there."

"The one poisoned with Wolfsbane?"

"Yes, we will meet at dawn. We can wait for Lyanna until then. But if she does not return by that evening previous…"

Lilly hesitated, feeling his anxiousness, not understanding the root but knowing it to have something to do with Klaus, finally she relented, "Okay."

Kol didn't have words for Lilly then, but someday he would. Leaning forward he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her close and kissed her, graciously, much more delicate than he had times before.

Lilly was right. He couldn't reciprocate then verbally, but he knew she understood. Where Lilly would go, Kol would follow. Where she would stay, he'd live forever. Whoever she kept company with would hold his respect. And when they both died, he'd make sure they'd be together.

* * *

**Eltham Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

Irvin had been dead, lying cold on the bed for hours before Lord Morris returned. Cautiously he looked both ways down the long corridor, one guard posted at the far end, before he entered Lord Bosse's rooms.

"Irvin?" he called out, stepping inside. There was a horrid low pitch noise that burst throughout the rooms as Neil discovered his lover, black lips parted, eyes open, naked and cold lying on stained sheets.

Rising from her place by the window, Auriel walked into the main chambers to find Lord Morris hovering over the bed, trying to pull Irvin into his arms.

"Irvin...?" he murmured, seemingly in shock, waiting for him to respond.

"He is dead," she answered, simply, stating the obvious as red rimmed eyes looked up at her from across the room.

"You did this..." he cursed, looking at her with more hatred than Auriel had ever seen in a man's eyes.

"Yes."

Dropping his lover, he was quick to act; on her in seconds his hand had pierced her chest cavity, cracking ribs as his fingers wrapped around her heart.

"Who sent you?" he whispered darkly, his breath hot on her face as her eyes fluttered closed and then open again, her breath catching in her throat. She had a message she was meant to deliver. Klaus's command, dictating every word in her ears, once more,  _You will tell him Lady Lockwood sent you._

"Lady Lockwood," she replied, the last syllable barely above a whisper as he yanked her heart from her chest, squeezing the tissue between his fingers as her body dropped to the ground lifelessly. Without another thought, Lord Morris tossed the organ, exiting the scene and making his way towards Lyanna's rooms. He didn't care about the Arthur's wishes, the Starred Chambers or the moonstone any longer. Lyanna Lockwood was going to die and her death would not be nearly as quick as the prostitute's.

Bursting through her doors, he pulled the concealed blade from his houppelande. Inking a letter, her pen dropped to the table as Neil advanced towards her, blade lifted. Lyanna hardly had time to let out a scream before he was on her.

In a moment of complete desperation she pushed the desk towards him, papers flying, ink well splashing over her half-finished letter, before it splattered onto the floor. Attempting to block his path but the barrier worked only for a moment as he tossed the wooden desk as if it were a child's toy, the wood splintered as it hit the wall. Scrambling, horrified and confused Lyanna ran towards the bed, tripping over fragments of the furniture.

"Help!" she yelled, her knees hitting the stone floors at the foot of the bed. Grasping at the sheets, she tried to lift herself up and crawl over the mattress, when she felt his hands on her skirts, tugging her backwards. The blade came down so sharp so precise that it cut through the muscle of her calf with one thrust, leaving Lyanna to scream out in pain.

Awkward on her stomach, she attempted to bring her injured leg under her, shielding it, but was stopped. Taking a firm grasp on her hair, he tugged on it as if it were a leash, snapping her head back, hair ripping from her root. Pulling her backwards off the bed, Lyanna's neck immobilized, arms flailing, she desperately latched onto the bed post, holding it with all of the strength she could muster. As he jerked violently on her head once more, trying to detangle her from her support, Lyanna used her free leg to kick at him. Doing very little, it managed at the least to cause Lord Morris to drop her hair before lunging for her neck. Grasping his hands around it, he was crushing her wind pipe, Lyanna's vision blurring with black dots as she scratched at his hands. Finally in a moment of desperation she turned her face, teeth connecting with his arm as she bit down as hard as she could. Stunned, he pulled away for a second- just long enough for her Lyanna to scramble back further onto the bed. She coughed and grasped for air, vision blurring with tears as she clawed her way across the sheets, her leg, bleeding profusely into the bedding, leaving an ugly red trail behind her. Panicked her eyes remained locked on the door,  _if she could only just make it to the door. It was only a little further,_  while her hands fumbled through the folds of her dress looking for the blade.

She could feel the cold metal brush over her fingertips when his hand wrapped again in her hair, yanking her head back so hard, that it forced her upright before he pulled her down on her back. Lyanna's arms instinctively moved to protect herself but was too late as his hand came down hard against her face, slapping her hard enough that the room spun. She was completely disoriented, her ears ringing and cheek on fire. Lyanna's head lulled back to center, just in time to see him hover over her, blade raised.

"This won't be quick," he answered, the steel sinking into Lyanna's thigh, hitting bone as he drug it through the muscle. In shock, eyes wide, a wordless scream ripped out of her mouth when pain shot up her leg. But quickly that was forgotten as he removed his blade sinking it instead into her abdomen. Another deafening scream reverberated off the walls as Lyanna's body lurched forward in reflex, the agony so intense flooding over her that she couldn't even think past raising her arms up in defense as he pulled the knife from her belly, slicing into her liver on the way out.

Footsteps where echoing down the corridors in chorus, feet pounded against stone floors, yells of the guards echoing but Lyanna heard nothing and neither did Lord Morris. Locked in a battle of life and death, they held each other's gaze, tears spilling out over Lyanna's cheeks, the knife dripping with blood over the white sheets as two breaths passed between them.

The only sounds in the world:  _Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale._

Seeing nothing but red, Irvin's cold, dead body, Neil abandoned all self preservation and raised the blade over his head once more. Coming down hard, the knife sliced through Lyanna's forearms that tried to shield her. Cracking her ulna and radius, it pierced on first contact her left lung, the tissue instantly collapsing. Lyanna's lips attempted to gasp for air, strangled cries falling from her mouth as blood rushed out of her deflated lung, traveling up her windpipe. When the blade made its second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, contacts, it cracked and chipped ribs on its entrance and exit, leaving both lungs as nothing more than two bloody, deflated sacks of tissue. Blood spewed from Lyanna's lips as she attempted and failed to gasp for air, no longer even able to cry out. She was holding on to her last moments of life, sure to die in seconds but Lord Morris wasn't satisfied. Desecrating the soon to be corpse, he continued stabbing Lyanna in a crazed rage, until the guards drug him from her.

There was a scuffling of bodies, screams and yelling coming from Neil, guards and other strange people hovering in the room. Lyanna noticed none of it, everything a blur of noises, hands and blinding pain as the last few seconds of her life slipped away.

Lying in a pool of her own fluids, she stared up at the ceiling, blinking twice. Her ribs were shattered, the bones of both her forearms fractured and bruised, her dressed ripped, exposing her to half the room, blood was caked on her face, her entire body: seeping into the mattress, dripping from her feet that dangled off the bed.

 _So this is death?_ A fleeting thought that passed through her mind, as she felt hands running across her skin, hesitant to move her. Voices called out to her but they sounded strange, deep and slow: the words seemingly meaningless. Lyanna closed her eyes, in so much pain that her body had gone into full shock, every inch of her numb.

 _Nathaniel?_ His face floated through her mind. She felt as if she were drifting to sleep, falling into darkness amongst a sea of silence when suddenly it was all back in a thousand fold clarity. Pain shot through her body, Lyanna's eyes flying open to a blinding light as the alveoli grouped themselves together, the blood drying in their little cavities. Rapidly the tiny cells that composed withered sacks of tissue reformed their junctures, piecing together, the lungs suddenly beginning to inflate once more as Lyanna lunged forward gasping for air.

"Lady Lockwood?!" someone yelled, "Lady Lockwood, can you hear me?" Bones snapped back into place, fusing, deep muscle tissue ratcheted together as the filaments knitted back into order, blood vessels repairing, and wounds clotting.

"Lady Lockwood?!" they screamed her name as if she were deaf, hands brushing hair from her face.

"Lady Lockwood?!" they tried again, but she was unresponsive, in so much pain that she couldn't focus on a word they were saying, as she entered shock once more.

* * *

Klaus had stayed away all day, making the necessary arrangements. All of Eltham Palace was in chaos. Soon after Lord Morris had been dragged from Lyanna's room, screaming that he'd kill her again, Lord Bosse and his prostitute were discovered slaughtered in Irvin's rooms. Although Neil would claim that he had nothing to do with it, that he'd never harm Lord Bosse, King Henry was less than convinced. Neil, put in a difficult position, couldn't explain past his close friendship why he'd never be inclined to harm Lord Bosse. It took little to no effort for Klaus to plant in the Parliament's minds that perhaps- it was Lord Morris that had killed the fifteen souls in the forests on Greyshaw Lands. In fact it had more to do with a land dispute, a desire to claim the property, being that his was adjacent to Lyanna's. Perhaps he slaughtered the men (wolves) in an effort to frame Lyanna in hopes of being awarded the valuable land from the crown if she were executed. Furthermore, Lord Bosse was killed as collateral damage, knowing of Neil's plan and Lyanna attacked soon afterwards in a fit of rage when he realized that perhaps she'd expose him, knowing of his misdoings. After all, wasn't he mad? What kind of man would slaughter a neighbour in Eltham Palace? What type of Lord would stab a Lady more than a dozen times when he knew he'd be caught?

Perhaps a man that had nothing left to lose? A man that knew soon his secrets would be discovered. Only unknowingly to King Henry it was a different secret that Neil had been protecting for years. Neil, Lord Morris, was in between a rock and hard place. He either had to admit to Klaus's accusation or tell the truth. He could divulge his decade long affair with Irvin. He could expose him, but even in shame he'd not be able to save his life or bring back Irvin. Niklaus and the court's obvious counter claim would be that he murdered Lord Bosse and his prostitute in a jealous rage. Either way, Neil was set to hang, if not for orchestrating the murder of fifteen men on the Lockwood Lands, then the murder of Lord Bosse and his prostitute and if not for them then the attempted murder of Lyanna Lockwood.

No claim he could make to contrary, that it was Lady Lockwood that was responsible, that it was her that had lied and murdered the men on her land and Lord Bosse, would be heard. He was a damned man, his credibility gone the moment palace guards found him stabbing Lyanna Lockwood to death in her rooms.

In the midst of his plotting, the tying together of his complicated plans he'd not went to Lyanna once. Perhaps it was because he needed to keep his autonomy, to lend to the credibility of his accusations. He needed to distance himself from Lyanna Lockwood as to seem as if he had no interest in her future. Niklaus needed to counter the new claims that he was romantically involved with the widow. There were whispers throughout Parliament and the men of court, that Lyanna Lockwood was discovered in his rooms in the early hours of morning not a few days past, in a state of undress. These claims, of course were Lyanna's first undoing, the catalyst to her receiving at personal letter from King Henry requesting her presence the following day at Westminster Palace. Arthur may have been quick, but Niklaus had mastered the art of manipulation over his five centuries and was not about to be out witted, out played by a wolf.

Niklaus's absence was more than valid. He knew she'd live, having taken just enough of his blood in the chapel that she'd not bleed to death. Her wounds would, at the very least, partially heal. Maybe he didn't go because he'd rather not think of Lyanna Lockwood lying in a pool of her own blood, eyes closing as she gasped for her last breaths. Niklaus had a dozen reasons for not seeing her sooner, most of them political but a few personal. So when he slipped into the rooms that they'd moved her into, late into the evening he was relieved to find her sleeping. Her face remained relatively untouched. The king's physician that had attended to her couldn't explain it. She'd been stabbed multiple times with multiple witnesses, lying in a pool of her blood and all she had sustained were minor cuts, bruises and a few deeper lacerations but nothing life threatening.

 _She is a lucky woman,_ the old man had told Niklaus under compulsion when he'd asked of her progress. He'd spoke of Lyanna drifting in and out of sleep, coming to around the evening meal, taking in a small portion of broth and requesting that some of her personal effects be brought from her rooms.

Stepping inside the dimly lit chambers he found those personal effects scattered out beside her, a few letters and that book, the one she'd been reading in the carriage and when he'd went to her rooms that first time. Setting down the cup of tea he'd brought her, Niklaus bit into his wrist letting his blood drip into the dark liquid. She looked so peaceful he hesitated for a moment to wake her. Undoubtedly she understood now his motivations: why he'd fed her his blood in the chapel. She'd understand that he'd intended the entire time to spare her, that he'd had a plan to exonerate her of the crimes she'd been accused of by the court. Setting the cup on the bed side table, he looked down at the letter clutched in her hand. Propriety would call for him to respectfully not look, but Niklaus had never been one to give anyone their privacy. Delicately, he slipped the parchment out from under her fingers, looking down at Lyanna blissfully unaware as she slept.

Was it possible to resent someone and care for them at the same time? It must be because he resented the hell out of Lyanna for every single second of agony she'd caused him. All the plans she'd ruined, the chaos she'd brought into his life. But he cared for her enough, too much, that he'd stayed away all day out of fear that he'd not given her enough blood. That he'd arrive in her new rooms to find her disfigured, looking like a rag doll that had been drug through the mud.

Someday she'd hate him. They always did. No matter what he'd done for Elijah, Kol and Rebekah even Finn, they always resented him in the end. And Lyanna would be no different. Those that were poisoned infected everyone around them. Was he fool to want that kind of desire, even shaky trust from her a while longer? That was the problem with people. They wanted to be saved. They just didn't want to get their hands dirty doing it.

Unfolding the letter, he recognized the penmanship immediately: Elijah. His fingers crinkled the edge of the letter as he'd read over his brother's words to Lyanna: so sweet, so kind and so deceivingly selfless. A bitter taste filled Niklaus's mouth. He'd been in London for three days now when he should've been at Harte Manor planning for the sacrifice of his doppelganger, he'd been running around pandering to King Henry and Parliament- PANDERING, Niklaus Mikaelson did not pander to anyone. He'd orchestrated an elaborate story to ensure her release. He'd saved Lyanna from death once again and she laid here at night reading letters from his brother? Her gratitude now and always was sourly lacking.

"Did no one ever tell you that it is rude to look through other's personal effects?"

He folded down the corner of the letter to find Lyanna awake looking up at him, incredulously.

"I was not aware that you were awake," he replied, folding the letter in half, setting on the bed side table.

"How could I not be, with you lurking?"

"Lurking?" he attempted a smile, but still somewhat irritated- it came out as more of a grimace.

"What do you want Niklaus?" He wanted a bit of gratitude. He wanted Lyanna to thank him for saving her. He wanted a little appreciation, for Lyanna to be glad to see him, relieved even. He wanted Lyanna to be falling asleep to his letters- if he'd written her any.

"How are you feeling?"

If this was his convoluted way of showing her that he cared, Lyanna wasn't interested this time. How was she feeling? She felt like fool. She felt like she had been deceived and deceived well. Everything Niklaus did was a means to an end- everything. The moment of spontaneity between them that morning was just another ploy in his plan. Everything was always part of a larger game to him. He knew she was going to be attacked. He knew what was soon to happen. Did he think her a fool? Did he think she wasn't intelligent enough to piece together the puzzle?

The King's physician had said two other souls were taken: Lord Bosse and a prostitute's. For whatever reason, Lyanna felt a need to question the identity of the girl. The man didn't know her name. After all, why should they care, right? She was just a whore, another girl from the brothel to be toyed with. Why should they bother to know her name? But he did have a description of her, one that matched the prostitute that Niklaus had purchased their first night in London.

She should have known. How could Lyanna have been foolish enough to think differently for a second? Whether he'd taken her to bed or not, he'd used her all the same. Just like Lyanna, she was another piece in his game.

"I think you know how I am feeling."

"Alive," he answered, quite bluntly not willing to give her sympathy. She didn't need it. Lyanna had survived and after all wasn't that what was most important?

"I was stabbed fifteen times..." Lyanna countered, not nearly as dismissive about the matter as he, "Do you know what it feels like to die?"

"Yes, a few times actually." Hadn't she, herself stabbed him twice?

"As a human?" He might have tried to think back to what it felt like when Mikael stabbed him and all of Klaus's siblings but he wasn't given the opportunity. Removing the sheet that covered her, Lyanna wore nothing underneath, except for the dressings the physician had used to cover the wounds. Hissing she struggled to sit up in bed, grabbing the bedside table.

Niklaus knew what she intended to do. He knew where this was all headed and it was some place he didn't wish to be. He didn't need to think those kinds of thoughts or be tempted to feel emotion. Instead he looked away as she slowly unwrapped the white cloth from around her torso until it fell beside the bed.

"Do not dare look away," she warned but in a way that was more of a challenge. If he looked he knew he'd be forced to feel something but if he didn't, he was a coward.

She'd moved the sheet so she sat completely naked in front of him. He was right, he'd given her enough blood, barley enough that she didn't bleed to death, her organs healing and bones fusing back together but not much more. Lyanna had lacerations, on both breasts, down her sternum, peppering her ribs, past her navel and a deep tissue wound to her right thigh. Some were considerably more healed than the others. Just moving, she seemed to irritate the wounds, blood dribbling from the cuts across her abdomen and breasts.

He could hear screams echoing in his ears as he looked at the damage Lord Morris had managed to inflict. He'd heard her, when Neil attempted to gut her like a fish. Her cries echoed down the halls of Eltham Palace, bursting out into the dead gardens and courtyards, disturbing birds that attempted to pick through the frozen ground for seeds or worms. Lyanna's haunted pleas for help, the screaming of a sharp blade crushing through bone, cutting through tissue and organs sent chills up Niklaus's spine while they ricocheted off the walls causing everyone to stop what they were doing, conversations halting as they listened to Lyanna dying.

Swallowing guilt, he looked away and tried to push the image of Lyanna gurgling on her own fluids, tears streaming down her cheeks as she laid helplessly in her own blood, drifting into death.

"I've brought you something," he replied motioning to the tea that sat by her bed. Gripping the bed stand, Lyanna eased herself back down into the mattress, not bothering to rewrap her wounds or cover herself. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, the relief of not having to stare at what he'd planned. Taking the tea from the stand she sipped from it, waiting for his justification. Instead she was met with his denial of his own wrong doings.

"They took him to Westminster. Lord Morris is being charged with Lord Bosse and another's death, along with the attempt on yours."

_Another's death? Did he even know her name? The poor young girl he'd sent to the slaughter just as he did Lyanna?_

The warm liquid had an unfamiliar taste to it, something much different from regular tea leaves. Setting the partially finished cup back on the table she questioned, suspiciously, "What is in this?"

"Something to help you... Drink it, all."

 _Something to help you,_ Realizing that he'd given her his blood as some sorry consolation, she snapped, "Burn in hell," but was unable to finish her insult as her teeth clamped down on her lips, repressing scream.

Hands gripped at the sheets, holding on for dear life as the blood worked its way into her system. Niklaus watched as Lyanna trembled, pressing her face into the pillow beside her, the bleeding wounds clotting instantly, sowing themselves together in front of his eyes. The tissue and skin of the laceration on her leg, buttoned together into a thick pink puckered line. The marks on her stomach, chest and breasts doing the same. Lyanna gasped for air, trying to keep herself from crying out as her body for minutes healed itself. When it stopped, or the process slowed, her head lulled back to centre, eyes opening as she stared at the ceiling. A thin sweat had broken out across her forehead, her face as white as the sheets she laid on.

"Finish it," he replied, nodding again to the tea.

Lyanna looked down at her healed body, now only marked with pink scars, some still puckered red and angry looking.

"No."

She looked up at him, completely resigned.

"Now, Love, there is no need to be deformed," he replied shortly. If she didn't finish the blood she'd be forced to wear those scars until he turned her.

"I am not. Why should I heal them? They were given to me," the way she said it, her voice cold as ice. She was doing it again, Lyanna using that tone with him that made Niklaus feel as though he'd drown in guilt or resentment from her condescension, her indifference towards him.

"And so they will stay," she finished.

"Lyanna..." he tried to reason.

"I want you to leave," she quickly replied, cutting him off. Five words, over the course of his existence, Niklaus had been called many things, cursed even a few times but never had he felt more insulted, hurt by five simple words.

He could have sat and explained to her how ridiculous she was. He had the inclination to tell her just how childish she was being, selfish, ungrateful but at that point any response would have shown just how easily she was able to make him feel completely impotent.

Covering herself with the sheet once more, she picked up her letters, ignoring him completely as Niklaus left without another word. When the door shut behind him, Lyanna must have stared at it for close to an hour, still bitter, outraged, but wishing that she hadn't sent him away so quickly. Perhaps at times it was better to be in the same room with someone, even when you loathed them, even if every moment together would be contentious, than spend it without them.

Lyanna never drank the rest of the tea, keeping those scars up until her death. When she fell asleep later that night, thinking of the circumstances, preparing herself for Westminster in the morning, praying that her death and that poor woman's wasn't for nothing she thought that Niklaus had likely gone back to his own rooms angry. Lyanna was sure that she'd spend the rest of the evening alone.

She was wrong.

Niklaus resented Lyanna in too many ways to explain but he loved her even more. It was a strange, twisted, unhealthy, unnatural love. To want someone who frequently wished nothing else other than to be as far away from you as possible. To care for someone that was made solely to destroy you, but love wasn't for the rational. Their desire for one another wasn't for the sane.

He returned shortly after he was sure she'd fallen to sleep and stayed with Lyanna until the early hours of morning, leaving just before the sun broke over the horizon. She'd completely rejected him. She likely hated him at the moment and crawling back like a kicked dog, with his tail between his legs was perhaps the most humiliating thing he'd experienced in close to a century. But whenever Lyanna needed him, whether she realized it or not, he was compelled to come to her aide, even if it was in his dark, twisted, convoluted way.

No, their affection wasn't healthy. Their story doomed before it really began but neither knew any other way to love.

If one was bound to drown, they'd take the other with them, knowingly or not.

* * *

In less than a few hours they would know for sure what would be Lyanna's fate. Niklaus had come to her early in the morning after he was sure she'd dressed herself. Playing at being hurt, Lyanna was cautious to let her attendants get too close- refusing to even let the King's Physician check her wounds. Lyanna would have preferred to spend the morning alone, in her own thoughts but Niklaus had other things in mind.

She needed to be prepared for any questions the Starred Chambers may ask. He hadn't come this far, he hadn't lied, cheated and manipulated his way through the past few days to let Arthur's Lordling dogs corner Lyanna- to find inconsistencies between Niklaus's accusations and Lyanna's alibi. Sitting at the small table across the room writing out a promissory note, he prompted, "And what will you tell them again?"

Church bells rang throughout the empty grounds of Eltham Palace. A child ran through the King's Alley into the barren gardens, his mother frantically chasing after him, clearly scolding the child. But he didn't care, he dodged her attempts to grab him, taunting her almost with his boldness or perhaps he was simply unaware that he shouldn't be there.

"I had my suspicions that Lord Morris was the culprit for the deaths on my property. I had intended to bring it to the attention of the Star Chambers and explain how he had threatened me."

"And Lord Bosse?"

"He was aware of the arrangement…" she answered listlessly as if she were barely paying attention to a word either of them said.

Watching her watch it all through a frosted window, he thought she was simply musing on home, perhaps preparing herself for what was to the panes of glass, clearing a larger circle for her to look out into the world, she didn't even spare a glance in his direction as she asked her loaded question.

"What was the name of the prostitute that was murdered?"

"Hmm? Come again?"

"The woman that you sent to the slaughter, the girl that you allowed to die without a second thought." The girl that looked so much like Katerina Petrova and maybe that was why she hated her and cared for a woman she had never met. Niklaus continued the association, but to what extent. Did he not see her and see Katerina as well? Perhaps he did and that was why he did it.

Niklaus stilled his pen, "Does it matter?"

"You do not know her name, do you?"

Annoyed, Niklaus knew where this was going. It was leading to a self-righteous tirade from Lyanna, one he refused to take part in, "Auriel, her name was Auriel. Are you satisfied?"

"Did you take her to your bed?" Lyanna asked nonchalantly. He'd taken Katerina, she knew it and was a fool to pretend that it had not happened. Did he take Auriel as well? Perhaps that was his preference, he liked a certain look. What did that Lyanna? And what did any of this matter now anyhow?

A mind worrying of dying often comforts itself with other problems, other issues, if only to think of something else for a moment or perhaps with death, lying seemed that much more of a gratuitous crime.

"Is that what this is about?" he almost smirked, "Are you jealous Lyanna?"

Of course Niklaus would find a way to make sure this was some sort of complement for him, "She did not know me, nor did I know her. Why should she die for my cause?"

"She was a means to an end Lyanna. She was saved from a pathetic life."

"Who are you to call her life pathetic or unworthy?"

"Do you know what happens to prostitutes in this city Lyanna? Hmm? No? Have you been to a brothel? I can tell you. They perish young from illness or they wish they had as they rot old, used and pathetic. It's a lamentable existence, Lyanna, one you will never know."

"So you claim that you acted out of benevolence, the kindness of your heart? What a saint you are Niklaus," she mocked.

The prostitute was only a small facet of her disgust with Niklaus, it wasn't that he had allowed her to die, for if Lyanna were honest with herself she'd long since, consented to the fact that Niklaus had little, if any, appreciation for human life. It was the more the knowledge that little of what he did had anything to do with serving others. If it didn't benefit Niklaus, if it didn't serve his purpose, then he wasn't interested. That encompassed everything, even Lyanna. What purpose did she serve for Niklaus?

"You are alive, are you not? I have arranged for you to be pardoned, have I not? I gave you my blood, did I not? I have untangled you from the hideous little web you seem to consistently be wrapping yourself in," he sharply replied.

"Did you take Katerina to bed?"

Mayhaps it was the calm in which she asked, so subtle, so out of context, so seemingly unaffected, regardless of his response, that caused him to eventually answer her so bluntly, or it could have been that he simply didn't feel as if it warranted an apology.

"Excuse me…." he heard her perfectly clear, but that wasn't the point. She had always been bold, that he couldn't deny.

"You heard me perfectly clear," she answered, still not bothering to make eye contact for it made everything much easier. If they were airing their grievances, should she not ask now? The prostitute was just another woman but Katerina was her dear friend. Katerina was her life. As Kat was just a passing amusement to Niklaus, as was the prostitute and however many other women, wasn't Lyanna as well? What means to an end did she serve? If Katerina was the wolves' doppelganger, then was his attention to her all part of a greater plan? And if so where did Lyanna fit into it all? Why was he helping her? Did he really want that moonstone that badly?

"Should you not be concerning yourself with more prudent things at the moment?" he calmly replied. Not that they mattered. Whatever plans she'd made for the women and the lands, if she was in fact taken to trial, would be foiled. If her head rolled, his doppelganger, the wolf and the witch as well, for good measure, wouldn't be far behind.

"I've already taken care of all that," she responded, absentmindedly, still watching the child and his mother. He was so carefree, innocent still. If she died, she wanted that for Lilly and Katerina: the preservation of that innocence.

Clearing his throat, he shuffled through the last of the documents he'd been signing, "And what would those plans be?" Not that he was at all that interested for it wasn't as if they would matter in the end.

"Elijah knows."

His pen stopped, ink blotting into the paper, forming a hideous black mark in what was previously a pristine document. The letter- she'd given his brother a letter before they left. He'd spent three days wondering about the contents of that letter. Knowing he'd later find out, perhaps when it was no longer relevant.

Before, he was sure that it was another like all of those previous: random musings or the continuation of a previous conversation. Perhaps there were even confessions, a profession of affection. All of which would be irrelevant after their time in London. Whatever she had said to his brother, promised, it would all be moot when they arrived back in Scrathclyde; where the doppelganger would be killed, Lilly not far behind and he'd turned Lyanna. Whatever feelings or intentions his brother had towards Lady Lockwood would be quickly corrected.

Niklaus never considered the fact that she'd written Elijah about her last wishes. Now he almost wished for the former confessions.

"Hmm, do you not wish to inform me as well?" he questioned, trying to sound impartial.

"No, Elijah knows…. He'll take care of it, if there should be need."

The document was ruined now. He'd have to start again from scratch. Retrieving another piece of parchment from the small stack, he crumpled the wasted piece and dipped his pen into the ink well again.

He shouldn't care that she'd written Elijah. It shouldn't even have fazed him that she'd left what could be her final thoughts with his brother. Wasn't it all to be irrelevant anyhow? But the thought of her falling asleep at night to his brother's letters was seared in his mind, nauseatingly enough. He did care, more than he wished to admit to even himself. Maybe because it was then that he realized it wouldn't matter how many days he had with Lyanna in London or how she may now or someday grow to love him. The connection, relationship in whatever shape that had formed between her and his brother could not undone, replaced or superseded. Their trust, affection would always be there- as something he would be forced to simply tolerate.

Must everything he would have be tainted, incomplete? Could nothing ever be solely his?

"Did you take Katerina into your bed?" she questioned again, interrupting his thoughts.

It seemed ridiculous to wonder that now, after all that had passed between them. If she were to scream impropriety- act offended, shouldn't she have done so before she took him into her bed, allowed him into her life in such a private way?In a few hours she'd either be alive or sitting in a dank hole, awaiting a trail. Mayhaps that is why she asked, even though she was sure of the answer, if Lyanna was soon going to die, she didn't want to be mistaken about what she had thought before had passed between her and Niklaus She wouldn't go to her death having secrets between them, allowing her believe in their disingenuous association. She thought at the very least he could pay her the kindness of honesty, telling Lyanna her part to play in his little act.

When she turned to finally give him her full attention, waiting for his confession, he realized that it was perhaps completely over between them and there was nothing he could do about it. If Lyanna sought truth, should he not as well?

"What did you write my brother?"

"Clever, a question for a question. No, I think I'll wait for your reply."

He set down his pen, forgetting the document all together. It could wait, if Lyanna wanted to do this, ruin what little peace they had left then he'd not stop her.

"Yes," he replied rather coldly, very matter of fact, with not a hint of apology in his voice because in truth he'd didn't feel any remorse. Katerina was a means to an end, a warm body. The past few days he may have been willing to relent somewhat with Lyanna, drop his shield but only a fool put down his weapon.

As he waited for her response he wasn't quite sure what he expected. Humans could be quite unpredictable with their emotions and females in particular seemed to be nauseatingly dramatic. But Lyanna was never short on surprises. She didn't cry out or flash with rage, instead she appeared halcyon, bordering on indifferent as she questioned, "How many times?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," it didn't matter. What her voice and her face wouldn't expose was still clearly evident to Klaus as the atmosphere in the room changed from relatively calm to remarkable chilly in was resolve, he could feel it like an invisible wall coming up between them, the stones were being laid since the previous night, but now staring at the barrier he knew that he would have rather dealt with messy irrational emotions than what she had planned. Hatred, even in its bitterness, sadness even in its moroseness was easier. In fact anything was preferable to separation, the immediate dissociation he could feel radiating off of her.

Yesterday morning they were still hovering somewhere in naïve bliss and now, just as she had in the abbey, she was preparing herself to push him as far from her as possible.

Lyanna knew it then, could feel the bottom dropping out of the little fantasy that she'd allowed herself to create, the life she'd wanted to believe could happen, the feelings she convinced herself were real, but nothing was ever real with Niklaus.

Instinct kicked in before his mind could filter his mouth, "Are you going to cry Lyanna? No biting words, quippy returns of humanist moral platitudes?"

"No. Why would I cry Niklaus? All you've done is fulfil what expectations I already had of you," her tone acrid in its honesty. From Katerina to yesterday's activities to now, for every moment Niklaus had that made her wish to trust him, believe that he could be sincere; he seemed to carelessly destroy without apology.

"And what were those, Love?" If she thought she could make him cower under the weight of her disappointment, attempt to make him feel a moment of guilt for something that was completely natural to him, then she was sorely mistaken.

"Selfishness, you are juvenile always in your intentions. You are a child, never satisfied, desperate for your next toy only to toss it aside as soon as it is yours."

"Is this your impetuous attempt at shaming me, Lyanna?" he laughed, only there was nothing humorous about it.

"No, I wouldn't dream that you would understand guilt. However, if you were capable, you can absolve your conscience, Lord Mikaelson."

"And shall you also unburden yours?" he fired back, thinking of her holding on so tight to his brother's letters, "When we return will you run again to my brother as if nothing ever happened?"

 _If she returned_ , in Lyanna's mind, that was the question, but to Klaus it was only a matter of time. He didn't wonder if she'd live, he only wondered if she was just as insincere in every word she'd spoken to him, every look, every touch, as she accused him.

"You think me insincere?" For Niklaus of all people to call someone insincere, the mere idea of it was maddening.

"Yes."

"In what way?"

He smiled, they were rapidly sliding from emotional sentiments to a heated conversation, confessions of hatred, cruel words, all thing Klaus was blissfully familiar with. He had succumbed to Lyanna's world, exploring emotions she was familiar with, for the past two days but now they were moving onto ground that Klaus owned, built and knew intrinsically.

He paused, considering whether or not to go for the throat (his usual style) or instead wait for her to hang herself. From the look on her face, cold, indifferent, he decided the latter. Let her not be confused by his manner the past few days, he was not an altruist, a gentleman. He'd crush her calm exterior, draw out her acrimony and watch her suffer. She wouldn't get the better of him. Not this time. If she wished for truth, he'd unleash it on her.

"Tell me, Lyanna, what poetry did you wax to my brother? What promises of affection did you give him?" he paused, rising from his seat, starting to circle her before he continued, "How many thoughts did you spare for him before you invited yourself into my bed?"

"Many more than you spared anyone but yourself before you crawled between Katerina's thighs."  _Before you lied to me repeatedly about everything else,_ she wished to continue, but one fight at a time. Lyanna had to pick her battles to wage.

Raising his hand in objection, as if he was the teacher and she the student, he corrected, "Before she begged me to do so, you mean? In fact, much quite like you."

He was right. She had no one to blame but herself. Wasn't she the fool? She had always had her suspicions that he'd entered into a carnal relationship with Katerina. That he'd lied to her once and many times before. That Niklaus was insincere in his actions and affections for her. Men, fickle in their affections, a reality she had been exposed to long before Niklaus, one she had apparently not learned from.

"A mistake, I assure you."

"A mistake? Truly, was it now Lyanna? I don't recall you believing it to be so when you were calling my name."

She couldn't decide what it was that made her the greater fool, the fact that she had played into his game or believed it so wholeheartedly.

"A worthy performance for the critic himself," she fired back, still perfectly composed, as Niklaus stopped, the shadow of a grimace passing over his mouth before he continued, "Tell me, did you think of my brother when you crawled on top of me, begged me not to stop?"

"I'd never lower myself to beg anything from you."

That struck a nerve, turning fully to face her, Niklaus spat, "Lower yourself? Please. I lowered myself for a damaged, pathetic, little widow. You couldn't even keep your own husband."

Without thinking, Lyanna grabbed the water basin on the table beside the window and hurled it at Niklaus's head. He saw it coming before her hand made contact. The porcelain burst against the wall, shattering in to dozens of pieces.

"Don't you ever speak of things you don't know!" she screamed. He'd hit a weakness, a chink in her armour, one that he'd tried a few times before with no response, but now it was clear that deep down she still cared more than she'd let on about her husband's past indiscretion.

A sensitive man who had any benevolence in him at all would have known to stop there, take his victory and move on, but Klaus was never known for sensitivity.

"How could I not know Lyanna? All of Scrathclyde knows that he preferred another's bed."

He hadn't noticed it before, but now he could hear her heart pounding with adrenaline, her skin flushing pink with animosity: the fight, filtering down into her veins, "Shut your mouth," she threatened.

But Niklaus didn't take direction from anyone, no matter how prudent the suggestion.

"Tell me Lyanna, could you not smell her on him?" he taunted circling her again.

"I said quiet!" she growled.

Brushing pieces of the broken pitcher aside with his feet, he stepped closer, continuing, "Tell me, for I must admit, I am curious, did their child look more like him… or her?"

Quickly she reached for the basin's pan and hurled it in his direction, again another easy dodge for Niklaus.

He opened his mouth to spit out another spiteful insult when Lyanna beat him to it. "This is why she runs from you."

Niklaus stopped in his tracks, feet crunching against broken shards, when Lyanna continued, "You can compel an entire village of women to lie on their backs for you but you couldn't even buy your own sister's affections or theirs either," she snapped.

"Are you foolish enough to think they love you? Care for you even?" she paused, swallowing, "They hate you. Your own family can barely tolerate you. You're the only one too blind to see it."

Instantly, Niklaus stepped forward, the paroxysm he'd been keeping at bay bursting forth with the mention of Rebekah, Elijah, Kol and every fear he'd ever had.

But he stopped short seeing that she held the letter opener out in front of her, more than ready to use if need be, "Try it," she threatened.

Looking at the small knife he laughed, "Do you really think you are going to kill me, Lyanna?"

"I hate you," she cursed and he could see it then, water filling her eyes. Looking again at the blade, he had his answer. It may have been pointed in his direction, her knuckles going white from her crushing grip, but he knew she was well aware that it wouldn't be enough to end him, or even their argument but that was fine by her. She didn't need him dead. She only needed to inflict the same pain he'd given her, in whatever way possible.

By the way she said it,  _I hate you,_  he almost believed it and part of him loved it, he revelled in it, needing this more than anything.

 _Yes, hate me,_ he felt like encouraging, make it that much more easy for them to put this behind them, the feeling he had when she was around (novel and terrifying) disappearing into something more familiar: contempt or better yet, fear.

He smirked darkly, his irises flicking yellow, black veins forming under his eyes as his fangs began to drop. Arms extending out, welcoming it, he admonished, "Isn't this what you wanted? The monster? Isn't this all part of the game, sweet Lyanna?"

His hand caught the chair in front of him, easily brushing it aside, it flew through the air- the wood cracking as it hit the wall. Had the Eltham not been almost completely abandoned by the men of court, the King leaving the night previous for Westminster, most of the Lords following or departing early that morning, they would have been interrupted long before now. But the guards, although there to keep order, knew better than to interrupt a disagreement, no matter how volatile between the guests of court.

Lyanna seemed completely unaffected, her face devoid of emotion, "You don't scare me."

"No?" his eyes burned a little more yellow, veins extending down through his cheeks like poisoned roots of umbrage. Stepping toward her, he kicked the low lying foot stool out of his way. Skidding across the floor it crashed into the mirror, splintering their reflections.

She ignored the scene he was making, the destruction of the room. Her eyes didn't bother leaving him for a second when she replied condescendingly, "You're a child, trailing behind your brother, trying to prove yourself worthy."

"Of what?" he barked.

"Of someone caring about you, for even a second, as they do with him…. It's a sad little game that no one is playing but you Niklaus."

Steaming with enmity, he rushed toward her, only to find the letter opener buried between the last two ribs on his left side, chipping bone on the way in. A cut for a cut, only Lyanna was somewhat still kind and would spare him the other dozen or so she had suffered.

"Pathetic," she diagnosed against his face, moving around him, stepping over the ruined furniture on her way to the door.

Blood dripped off the metal onto the floor, as he quickly moved in front of her, stalling her hasty exit before she could blink, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Get out of my way."

"Leaving so soon Lyanna?"

"Move."

"No," his arms spread out, blocking her path as she tried to move around him, "We aren't finished."

"We are done, Niklaus," she looked at him with such contention, "We never began."

"Why? Is it time to run, now that things have become real between us? Scared now, are you?" his breath flushed over her cheek, as she looked past him towards the door.

"Get out of my face."

"Force me," he threatened.

 _._ She raised her hand to slap him, when Lyanna found herself pressed against the wall, unable to move.

"Is that all you have Lyanna? Come now, I thought you had a little more fight in you than that," he taunted.

His hands were on her shoulders pinning her down, mouth pressed against her ear, as she struggled to turn her face as far from him as possible. Accepting his challenge her hands were instantly on his neck, thumbs pressing into the windpipe he'd didn't use. Then there were nails on his face, scraping through skin, blood trickling through the cuts.

Dropping his grip on her shoulders, he reached for her hands to restrain her only to be met with more resistance which he easily quelled. Slamming her again against the wall, his eyes were so black there was no longer any delineation between his pupil and the iris.

Hands reached down, catching the material of her dress, inching up her thighs finger running over the hideous red scar on her thigh, until she hissed, scratching at him. She tried to push him off but Niklaus was unmovable, always stronger. Fingers danced along the inside of her thigh. It was completely irrational, her whole body fighting to be anywhere but near him. But for some reason, he was sure, if he could just get her to submit, if he could bring her back to that moment in the chapel, things could come back around. She'd realize that she'd not win with him and accept it. He could bring her back from edge of abandoning him and what he knew they'd had. The harder Lyanna fought the more bold he became in his advances. Hadn't it all started this way in the abbey? Didn't she resist him to being with?

This time, however, Lyanna was quite serious, "Stop it," she growled and when he did not comply she reached down twisting the letter opener that was still dug in his side; clipping against bone, cutting through tissue, Niklaus grunted in discomfort, "I mean it," she threatened.

Fangs extended, they scraped along the skin of her neck, in defiance; threatening to pierce through the thin outer layers of tissue, when she answered with disapprobation, "Don't you dare," causing him to pause for a second before the first barely broke the skin, blood trickling from the superficial wound.

He had every intention of feeding from her. Not caring whether she willed it or not. He was the predator. Not her. He wouldn't be taking notes from Lyanna on how to behave. She wanted the Philistine? Lyanna wanted to ignore fear, the horror of his actions, seem unfazed? He'd whittle her down to a type of recreancy she'd be unable to deny.

That was until she took the potency right out of his intentions with her vitriolic observation, "You're not a monster, Niklaus. You're just a sad, pathetic, petulant child."

"States the woman that would die without my aid."

He was right, without his intervention she'd likely have no chance against the reaper's blade or his rope but at that moment Lyanna didn't care. She'd rather die with her pride, than crawl to him for anything.

Turning her face, to make sure he heard every word, know of her sincerity, she looked him in the eye when she replied, "You can unnail yourself from that cross, for I do not now nor did I ever before need your assistance. My problems are none of your concern."

"You've made them my concern," he snapped, for she had. Lyanna was the worst kind of pestilence. She'd managed to ruin every single plan he'd had. She was the parasitic fungus that grew on him, which he was unable to cure.

"Well by all means I apologize. You can now unburden yourself, for I don't care what you do, as long as you do it away from me," and with those final austere words, fissuring into him with their artlessness, she manoeuvred out from under his grasp and promptly left.

Alone, in the wake of their destruction, it became stingingly apparent that although he may have kept his weapon and fought the good fight but in the end it was the shield which would have saved him.

* * *

**Westminster Palace, London**

**1492 AD**

They took separate carriages to Westminster Palace. When Lyanna arrived she had no notion whether Niklaus was present or not and in that moment she didn't care. She didn't need him, she reassured herself, partially knowing it to be untrue.

Through the halls of Westminster the guards guided her, aiding her along the way, past the chapel, sets of stairwells and a few great halls. Lyanna began to wonder if they were just leading her outside to the gallows and this was simply just the longest last walk that ever took place until finally her escort turned into the last hall. Leaning against the men, feigning grave injury, she was relieved when they finally stopped outside a bank of great doors, sitting outside were a few unknown faces and some she'd rather not see again, in particular Arthur. How he managed to find himself a seat at the King's table, an invite inside Eltham and now Westminster, spoke of his alliance amongst the pack- those that were still living among the Lords. He may not have been given rooms in the visitor's corridors, he may have been denied a private audience with the King, but somehow he still managed to snake his way into the proximity of power.

For he may not have been powerful in the human world; but in the supernatural world, in Scrathclyde and their lands, he held enough clout as the new alpha of the ancient pack. And soon with her death, he'd likely elevate himself to Lord of Greyshaw, how convenient. He sneered at her as she walked by, the hostility palpable in the air.

He'd made his move and she'd made hers. Only Arthur had lost seventeen men and Lyanna none, except for possibly her own life. Averting her eyes, she didn't think of her adversary in the moments before she entered the Starred Chambers, she thought instead of the baby that had been brought to Greyshaw Manor a year past and the tear stained cheeks of her husband's mistress. She had pled with Lyanna to take her in, to let her work in the home, any position for the child's sake.

She feared for her life and what her husband would do to both her and the child, now that Nathaniel was dead and his indiscretions were no longer a secret. Lyanna could still hear her sobs echoing throughout the great entry way, the child's screams echoing its mother's and could feel the heat of embarrassment, anger that had crept through her skin. That this woman would come to her home, with Nathaniel's bastard and beg for forgiveness, clemency even, it was unthinkable. Coldly, Lyanna had turned from her and the child that the mistress called Jacan and had them thrown from the house. Nathaniel's mistress was forced to go home, to Arthur and suffer his wrath, his insufferable punishment that was never ending. Lyanna remembered hearing the girls in the kitchen whispering about it once, when they thought she couldn't hear. Nathaniel had, had the son he always wanted but the child took Arthur's name and Nathaniel Lockwood's line would die with him as his heir would wander the world as a Maxwell.

Perhaps Lyanna could have saved them both. She could have spared the woman a year of abuse and given the child the Lockwood name. But Lyanna wasn't a saint, nor was she forgiving. She sought to distance herself as far from that woman and her child, Nathaniel's child and Lyanna's own failures, as possible. How could she have known that Jacan Maxwell, his line, would find hers again? How could Lyanna have foreseen a girl by the name of Maxwell, Hayley Maxwell, finding a Lockwood and using his desperation to rid himself of Niklaus Mikaelson and his love for a woman that shared her face to begin another cycle of agony for another hunter? How could she have known that Niklaus would be foolish enough to sleep with the bastard's line, to take another Lockwood into his bed... only not the right Lockwood descendant?

Free will and the products of its decisions, they rippled out like waves in a pond, affecting everything in its wake. Had she taken the woman and her child into Greyshaw Manor, they likely would have perished. So much trouble, resentment, heartache Lyanna could have spared with one decision. But Lyanna was proud and from her hatred, disgust, so many others would be punished.

Pushing open the doors for her, the guards practically carried her inside the great room. On the peak of the vaulting ceiling was a large, painted yellow star. Shifting her focus downward, she noticed ten men and King Henry staring back at her.

"Lady Lockwood," of all the men she recognized two, one being Lord Catullo, "You must excuse us, not everyone is present. Lord Bram, in particular, sought to find travel from Spain but was detained."

She nodded, why they thought she cared, she couldn't decide. Perhaps this man was of some importance? She was given a chair to rest in as she feigned to the best of her abilities looking gravely pained.

"Your coming, under the recent circumstances, is remarkable," Lord Catullo commented, obviously suspicious about her abilities to function after her attack.

Lyanna could have begun defending herself but instead nodded her head as Lord Kaelan began, "Lady Lockwood your presence has been requested so that we may inquire after the accusations that have been levied against your person. You will answer them truthfully and to the best of your ability. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

In a line they sat at a great table, with King Henry behind, slightly elevated above the rest, silently watching as the questioning took place. Seated in front of eleven sets of eyes, Lyanna could feel her heart begin to race even more than it had pervious.

"Were you aware that Lord Bosse was murdered just yesterday in his rooms at Eltham Palace?"

But if she showed fear it could be misconstrued as guilt. Attempting to look as calm, but still pained as possible she responded, "Yes, My Lord. I was informed by the king's physician."

"Were you attacked by Lord Morris?"

"Yes, My Lord," her hand subconsciously touched the skin of her ribs on the outside of her gown, thoughts of pain shooting through her body as she remembered the blade sinking into the soft flesh.

"And pray tell, what was the nature of this attack?"

Coldly she responded, "He meant to murder me, My Lord." _And succeeded for a short period of time,_ she thought to herself.

"And did you sustain injury to your person?"

The sound of knife hitting bone, the feeling of blood pouring into her mouth as her lungs collapsed filtered through her mind like a horrid nightmare, "Yes, My Lord."

"Where might I ask?"

Lyanna still slumped awkwardly in the chair, ran her fingers across her ribs and replied, "He stabbed me or attempted to many times, My Lord."

"And still you are here before us? Was his aim lacking?" Another man, nameless as far as Lyanna was concerned, questioned from the line, smacking together his dry lips.

"No My Lord, only the blade dull and the king's physician competent."

"I see..." he replied, looking at her as if she were already guilty, while she was still trying to plea her case.

"Do you know the nature of the reason why you were attacked?" Lord Kaelan resumed.

"Yes My Lord."

"Well, do tell Lady Lockwood; we haven't all afternoon," the dry lipped, sharp tongued Lord snapped.

"He was aware that I knew of his involvement in the deaths that took place on my lands not a month past and his plans to use those deaths against me."

"In what way, My Lady?" Lord Kaelan continued, ignoring the strange shuffle and murmurs of discontent amongst some of the men.

"He intended to make it seem as if I was responsible, My Lord but I am just one woman. How could I possibly slaughter fifteen grown men on my own, in the woods at night?"

"Perhaps you had men?"

She saw a knowing look pass between some of the Lords, sure that they would catch her in her lies.

"I do not know if you are aware My Lord, but my husband passed last year and since his passing many of the men that were loyal to our lands have abandoned our properties. Only a handful is left and many are advanced in age."

"And why would they abandon your property, My Lady? Do they not owe fealty to you?"

"Perhaps they would rather not owe anything to a woman, My Lord and regretfully there was no one to stop them."

King Henry shifted in his seat, either from boredom or displeasure from her frank comment.

"So it is your assertion that Lord Morris intended to murder fifteen innocent souls on your lands as a conspiracy?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"And do tell, why were those men on your lands to begin with?"

"That is a question for Lord Morris, My Lord," she replied somewhat tartly, maybe now was not the best time to be sharp tongued but could they not see how ridiculous some of these accusations were? Her nervousness, gripping fear from moments earlier was dissolving somewhat with the irritation that came with the ridiculousness of the situation. It was the pure reek of misogynist power that she was forced to stomach with a smile.

"I still fail to see, even if your assertion were true why it is that Lord Morris would want to accuse you of such a crime?" Lord Cutallo interrupted.

"The Lockwood lands, My Lord is some of the most fertile ground south of the Solway Firth."

"I still fail to see how this involves Lord Morris," he shot back.

"If I was to be charged for murder and perhaps even Lilly Lockwood as a conspirator, then the land would no longer belong to the Lockwood family, it would be in the hands of the king. Lord Morris likely wished to be awarded the lands since he is my nearest neighbour and a frequent member of court."

"That is a bold accusation, My Lady," the curt man, her accuser from before, threw out.

"It was a reckless plan, My Lord," Lyanna replied back, making eye contact until he looked away.

"And so you accuse that Lord Morris planned to kill you, why again, My Lady? If he thought that you would be charged with the murder of fifteen men? Seems a bit excessive does it not and illogical?" Lord Kaelan continued.

"Perhaps Lord Morris knew there was no case to find my guilty My Lords," she responded looking about the room full of men, "I am but a widow, with hardly enough men to work my fields and no motivation to kill innocents. It seemed to be a difficult association to make; therefore he panicked, knowing that I knew whom the real killer was."

"And how did you know Lady Lockwood?" King Henry interrupted from behind, his voice echoing throughout the hall.

The men turned in their seats to acknowledge the king, while Lyanna seemed unfazed as she replied, "He threatened me, himself, weeks past and confessed his crime." Part of her knew there was no point in fear now. If she was going to hang, she'd do it knowing that she didn't cower in her last few hours of life.

The King continued, "Why would he do a thing such as that?"

"Perhaps he thought for sure that the court would take the word of a man over that of a widow but he didn't account for the chamber's blind sense of justice," she added somewhat poignantly.

Henry replied, not amused with her tongue and cheek remarks, "And Lord Bosse? What was his involvement in this situation?"

"I could not say for sure, Your Grace. I only know what I was told from Lord Morris and there was no mention of Lord Bosse."

"Do you think him capable of murdering Lord Bosse?" Lord Kaelen interrupted. At this moment he seemed to be the only member of the chamber present that wasn't convinced of her guilt.

"He came to my rooms and stabbed me repeatedly with a dull knife, he orchestrated the murders of fifteen men on my lands... yes I think him to be more than capable," her voice droned out, reverberating over the walls as a damning judgment.

"Are you capable of murder, Lady Lockwood?" Lord Kaelen replied, somewhat more quietly.

 _Yes,_ she knew in her mind. If she had to kill to live or kill to keep Lilly, Elspeth or Katerina safe, she was more than capable of murder.

"No, My Lord." Her response seemed to hang in the air for minutes, the men staring back at her as if they were waiting for her true confession or individually deciding if they believed a word from her mouth.

Finally, King Henry nodded to the guards by the door to come and assist Lyanna, "Very well you may go."

Lyanna trying her best to play her part, fully leaned on the guard as he escorted her from the great vaulted room, into the halls where Arthur had disappeared but Niklaus had taken his place. As she was guided into another chair, she tried to read his face for an outcome, but he was expressionless as he ignored her, entering the chambers.

When the doors closed behind him, Lyanna again felt that nagging feeling of worry. Perhaps he would change his mind after their confrontation. Mayhaps this was all some strange means to an end that she didn't understand and he was inside now, unravelling the lies he'd showed her how to spin.

Looking to the two guards that were posted at the doors, to the others that littered the halls, she thought briefly that wherever Arthur lurked he's surely not attempt a confrontation with her in front of so many witnesses, especially when his presence was still such a mystery.

Time seemed to drag on forever as the noon sun fell to the opposite horizon. Lyanna had started to nervously react to every minor sound from within. Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days as she imagined all the different holes in her story, picturing the Lords conspiring against her, Niklaus setting her up to find the reaper's blade. She might have gone mad with waiting when the doors to the chambers opened.

"Lady Lockwood, you may enter," bellowed out into the halls.

Lyanna tried to straighten herself as a guard offered her his arm, somewhat roughly taking her back in to meet her fate. The men that had two hours previous looked lively and refreshed now looked tired. Niklaus was gone, having exited through another door, leaving Lyanna along with King Henry, his guards and Lyanna's prosecutors.

"Lady Lockwood," Lord Kaelan began, "It is by recommendation of the Starred Chambers and final decision of King Henry that you have been pardoned from the crimes you have been accused of against the crown."

Lyanna let out a slow deep breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, her clammy hands gripping her dress. She was innocent. How was she innocent? When she had stood amongst these men and answered their questions it felt as though she didn't have an alley in the room. Now suddenly she was pardoned.

"I shall hope to not hear anything more from you," King Henry called out, his voice that of a father's warning to a child.

Curtseying Lyanna nodded her head, sure she was shaking from shock or relief. The next few minutes were a blur as she was corralled from the room, back down the long winding halls she'd travelled down that morning. Lyanna had survived the Starred Chambers. Few, had lived to tell of a visit. She could have finally breathed easy if she hadn't been grabbed suddenly in the middle of the hall.

"I will escort the Lady from here," a harsh voice, called out to the guard. Lyanna felt a chill run up her spine, when she turned to see Arthur looking back at her.

"No, you will not. I have orders from the king," the guard answered.

"Then a word?" His hand clamped down hard on Lyanna's arms, bruising the skin under it as freshly healed blood vessel popped. Before the guard could reply Arthur leaned in close, his voice dropping as his threats susurrated against Lyanna's ear, "He may have bought you from death now, but a man can only spare you so many times, Lady Lockwood. Soon his fortune or patience will run thin and then I'll be waiting for you."

The guard was tugging Lyanna away before she could respond. Arthur remained standing there, a sick smile on his face as Lyanna scowled at him. Nothing would ever be over between them. Either Lyanna had to die or Arthur, but not both would live in Scrathclyde.

* * *

Entering the carriage Lyanna tried not to be surprised to find Niklaus waiting for her. What, did she expect for him to hire another carriage to take him back to Scrathclyde, for him to run along outside, beside the wheels?

When the carriage door shut and they pulled away from Westminster, the tension in the could have been cut with a knife. So many things left unsaid and too many already spoken: words that couldn't be taken back.

Like children they looked out their respective windows, ignoring the other. Both were too proud to make the first move, until Lyanna could take it no more: Arthur's accusations clouding her mind.

"They had no intention of letting me go did they?"

She watched him carefully as he didn't respond pretending to ignore her until he finally shook his head,  _No._

Here for a few brief moments Lyanna thought he'd beaten the Starred Chambers, the wolves, all of it by herself only to realize that Arthur was right. The thought of it made her want to choke on her own bile. Hadn't Niklaus told her, she'd die without his aide? She swore he was wrong but it turned out, as per usual he was right. Which could only mean one thing, Arthur hadn't been lying.

"Did you buy me?"

The streets of London rolled by as Niklaus's fingers toyed with the window dressing, "I wouldn't call it that."

More direct, Lyanna asked again, "Did you?"

There was a long pause before Niklaus responded, "Yes…." He'd considered last minute changing his mind. Somewhere between her private conversation with Henry and his own audience, the thought filtered in and out of his mind more than a few times. Had she not asked him to untangle himself from her affairs? How she would have soon discovered what life was like without his aide. He pondered writing her off as she seemed to so easily do so with him. He'd find another, right? Lyanna was just some human, there was an entire world full of them. He could have anything he wanted, Queens, Ladies, the most exquisite courtesans in the world, tavern girls, the unobtainable, all of it could be his. What did he need with Lyanna Lockwood? Surely he could find better...

"How much did you pay?" It seemed the more he tried to avoid her gaze, the more intently she stared at him. Not willing to be ignored or play his games, especially in light of the things they had last said to one another. Lyanna didn't wish to owe Niklaus anything, "I said how much?"

"I wouldn't concern yourself with it," he finally answered.

"I'll decide what it is that I should concern myself with."

He knew she would be unrelenting if he didn't respond. And part of him wanted to continue to be evasive. Although her tone was somewhat hostile, at the very least she was speaking to him, acknowledging his presence. Sometimes even anger was better than indifference. Then again, sometimes a man wanted something more than just a person's hostility, he'd settled for much less before. He wanted more from Lyanna, even if he couldn't admit it to himself, "A fair price."

"And what is a fair price for my life? Tell me, Niklaus. I will pay the debt," she answered reaching into her belongings, as if to make note of whatever amount he quoted.

"No need."

"No, how much?" she insisted. Arthur's words echoed in her mind,  _he may have bought you from death now, but a man can only spare you so many times, Lady Lockwood. Soon his fortune or patience will run thin and then I'll be waiting for you._

"The picture, the one from the ball…."

"The one you painted?"

"Yes…."

"That was the price?" He purchased her freedom for the price of the painting? Although beautiful, she couldn't imagine its value being near what Arthur had hinted.

"No, the villa from the painting, that was the price… and more."

Lyanna's fingers curled around the parchment that sat in her lap. The estate from the painting? It looked as though it were perhaps twice the size of Greyshaw Manor, and more? What was the more? What more could King Henry want? She'd never be able to repay that kind of expense. Why would he waste something so valuable?

As he watched her grapple with his admission, he sought to direct the conversation away from things that were done. He was right, she did need him. Lyanna had survived because he had made it possible. There was a moment he could have ended it all right there. The justice would have been swift, her head rolling as the carriage meandered back to Scrathclyde with only he in it. But when given that opportunity to show her just how wrong she was, how foolish she had been, being right just didn't seem to matter as much anymore. He'd bought her freedom and that was that. There was nothing more to discuss on that matter. So instead he blurted out, "Did you love him?"

The non-sequitur seemed quite out of place but it was something Niklaus had been pondering on and off all morning. After Lyanna died, while she was in and out of sleep, the King's Physician said that she'd called for her former husband. Not Elijah, not him, but Nathaniel. In her sleep she'd murmured his name more than a dozen times. The thought of it was enough to make Niklaus's skin crawl and perhaps that was why he was quick to point out her husband's misgivings in their argument. To prove that perhaps like his brother, her husband was not worthy of the attention, the affection she still felt for him.

If Niklaus were capable of being honest with himself, impartial, he would realize she was right. He was juvenile often in his reactions and some things would never change. His impulsiveness, selfishness would always define him.

"Why ask when you don't care?" she questioned, flatly.

"I don't….." he snapped. But he did and it was clear to both no matter what he said that Nathaniel, Elijah, any other man was a point of contention with him and always would be.

The carriage rocked and swayed as they moved over uneven roads. Lyanna knew she owed him nothing when it came to Nathaniel. It was before they had met and started whatever it was that they seemed to be doing. But she had asked him of Katerina, hadn't she?

"You were never wed…. It's forever, Niklaus… no matter what."

 _Forever, no matter what,_ what did Lyanna know of forever? It was still fresh in her mind perhaps in some ways. After he changed her, after they had spent enough time together, her late husband would fade as would his brother. Niklaus refused to believe otherwise.

"Things change…."

"You may think me a widow… a pathetic little bastard and you're right. I won't correct you. I was pathetic because I didn't know any better."

Niklaus suddenly felt mildly uncomfortable. Having his own accusations listed back to him. Suddenly they didn't sound nearly as justified. They didn't make him feel as vindicated when they came from Lyanna's mouth.

"You were right. I could smell her on him and even if I couldn't, I could see it on his face. Stupid little girl, right?"

He replied, flatly, very logically, "What should have you done?"

Eyebrows raised, emotionless she answered, as if she were telling someone else's story, "He would've left me for her…. Three years we were wed and we never had any children. You know how the pack feels about children... the Lockwood line," she added sarcastically, trying to seem amused before she continued, "He knew… I could tell from the way he looked at me: disappointed. But it was too late…. It's forever… when you wed in the church. They told him not to… but he did anyhow…."

"Perhaps that's why he did." Did he not know years ago about Tatia? Did he not know the road of folly he was travelling down? And did he not go just the same, almost out of spite: to always be one step behind Elijah, one behind Finn and someday the same with Kol. He was always on the outside looking in. Long before he knew what warranted such thoughts, perceptions. He wanted Tatia for many reasons. He loved her for ones he could no longer remember, that no longer mattered. But he knew what he felt then. If she wanted him, if he could just have her, then he meant something. That she would choose him over Elijah. That he should be the one wanted.

Lyanna nodded her head, not saying anything, looking instead out the window as a heavy silence fell over them. She was still angry. Furious at him for many reasons, but some of it was true. What he had accused her of, the things he had said. He was right about Nathaniel. She just didn't wish to hear it.

"A great while ago, there was someone…" Niklaus started and then trailed off. Why was he saying these things? He not spoken of Tatia to anyone other than Elijah and only under the most strained of circumstances.

"The woman you loved?"

"Perhaps I thought I did…" more he knew he did, but he couldn't remember what it exactly felt like- to care for Tatia. He remembered the need but the rest seemed irrelevant, foolish. Whatever emotions he'd had about her, the loss, other things he preferred to not think of- his human life, he'd buried it in a tattered room full of dead rodents and broken furniture. He'd left it with an old woman who'd cursed him outside her cottage. Hannah, whose face Lyanna wore now.

"And now?"

"Time is a blessing…."

Eventually he'd moved to a place where the thought of Tatia no longer elicited the kind of bitter humiliation it once had. He could look at the doppelganger and be unfazed by Tatia's face staring back. If Lyanna had died, he'd reassured himself before he entered the Starred Chambers that she would be the same. Soon with enough time, a few great fucks, the curse broken and she'd easily fade.

"And Katerina?" It was sore point for them both, it seemed she would bring up Katerina and he'd be forced to inquire about Elijah.  _What were they really doing?_  Beneath the accusations, the finger pointing, harsh words, wasn't that the real question?

"What would like me to say Lyanna?" he drawled, disinterested.  _This again? Jealous over a night a gratification? I_ f she only knew the women he'd fucked, killed and fed from alone in these three months. The doppelganger was only another in the blur. Perhaps Tatia's face, but not her just the same. A distinction his brother had yet to make. Katerina was another warm body, nothing more. Had she come to him again, he would not deny her, nor would he seek her out.

"You said the prostitute, that she was a means to an end… and Katerina… are we all just a means to an end for you Niklaus? You claim that I am insincere but are you not as well?"

He smiled briefly for a moment, wondering if she truly could read his mind. Lyanna, always one thought ahead of him.

"You think me insincere, Lyanna, in all my intentions or just with you?"

Suddenly she felt rather foolish, like a child asking if she were liked. Didn't she know Niklaus well enough to know by now that she had role in whatever game he was playing and that, that role was certainly not as a companion, or an equal and furthermore not a role that she should seek? When the last move was made, her worth to him; could only be measured by how much she furthered his cause.

And what happened when she was no longer of use to him?  _I am someone to you today, but what about tomorrow?_

"Am I yours now? Now that you've bought me like a cow in pasture."

"Saved you, Lyanna…." he corrected, quietly. Why must she take every act he did and point out its selfishness, passing over any altruism he may have intended- any act of caring? Again, that was the problem with Lyanna. Sure there were others. If Lyanna had died, he had reassured himself time and time again that there would be plenty of distractions waiting for him in the near future. The only problem was none of them would be Lyanna. He resented the lack of trust she had in him but admired it all the same. It wasn't Lyanna he resented, it was more the game. She'd always know him a little well, sensed his true intentions. And that truth, the ugliness of it, no matter how minor compared to all of his other sincere intentions with her, would always be the drop blood in the water, clouding everything else between them.

"Was it worth it? What worth can my life be to you, Niklaus?"

More than the villa, the money he'd paid for her. Lyanna was worth more than Harte Manor, worth more than any alliance still left with Elijah, who would surely seethe with anger when he knew of Klaus's plans to turn her. There would be centuries ahead of him, alone, Elijah pulling away, Kol and Rebekah already doing so. But he'd have Lyanna, even if she hated him for a time, he'd have her and his army of hybrids.

She was worth more than she could imagine. Enough that he was tempting fate, going against Ines's poignant warning, all the information he knew of Lyanna and what she really was.

Silence fell over the carriage as they rode for close to an hour without his response. Niklaus unsure of how to continue, how to bring her back, when she'd chosen to distance herself so far from him. He didn't know how to have someone love you, without compulsion, without force, but instead naturally. It was something he never knew he'd have a desire for and now it seemed to be next to the only thing he wanted: Lyanna's affection and the curse broken.

In the quiet that lulled between them, he thought not of the doppelganger, the full moon or all the other more pressing matters soon to be unravelled. But instead it was Lyanna's words that echoed through his mind:  _what worth can I be to you?_

Wasn't Lyanna right to question? Only she didn't understand the accusations swimming in his mind brought up an attempted forgotten story of Jacob and Rachael, the yammering tale of pity that the priest had laminated on for hours one Sabbath morning when Niklaus sat hungry and irritated in the abbey. He used to attend just to see Lyanna. He'd sit through hours of fairytales, the smell of warm blood pounding around him in temptation, just for the chance to get a glimpse of her, to keep tabs on the widow and perhaps be at the biting end of a sharp remark.

Father Hall's vexing voice coming back to him: " _So Jacob served seven years for Rachel and they seemed to him but a few days because of his love for her."_

Seven years for a wife? It seemed at the time a great expense of effort for little reward. Only now did he understand Jacob's plight.

"A great deal more than you can imagine."

Breaking the silence between them, he thought that perhaps she'd fallen asleep or hadn't heard him- forgotten the context of their previous conversation until she replied, "And when I am worth no more to you? Then how shall you feel about your investment?"

There was something about the way she said it, that marked something beyond contempt. Lyanna wasn't angry, she wasn't bitter, she was convinced. That to Niklaus, she held the same worth as perhaps his doppelganger- a worth she knew nothing of, but expendable just the same. She assumed or knew enough to understand that they were all was just part of some plan. That perhaps every word he'd said to her, every confession no matter how compromising, was all a lie.

And Lyanna hated liars. Hadn't told him that many a time? Why would he never listen?

"Why do you think that you will eventually be nothing to me?" he pondered curiously aloud. It was as if she could hear the inner dialogue always playing in his mind. The push and pull to attempt to forget Lyanna.

"I am only human, Niklaus. I only have a limited purpose for you. I have a moonstone and that is why I am still here."

"I do not care about that moonstone. Give it to the wolves."

Lyanna opened her mouth to say something but instead chose to close it. She thought of calling his bluff or rather pointing out the fact that they both knew she would do no such thing. That stone was the last piece of freedom she had left and it was also what Arthur wanted more than anything- even the land. If she gave it to him, she would be giving up what the Lockwoods had protected for years and what would that make her? What protection would she have left? What use would her, Lilly and Katerina be to the Mikaelsons then?

They were perhaps only a few hours into their long journey. She had all day to ponder what that meant. Exhausted from the night before, her interaction with Arthur and her preparation for the courts, Lyanna leaned back into her seat and was fast asleep before she even realized she was tired.

It was well past dark when she woke. The oil lamp within the carriage had been lit, leaving the space in a dim hue. Reaching for her cloak, Lyanna found that she'd been covered, bundled tightly, keeping the chill at bay.

Groggy she looked about, her eyes settling on Niklaus as she realized suddenly why she was so warm. He'd taken off his cloak and wrapped it around her while she slept. Realizing she was awake he smiled back, as if he'd been waiting all day just for her to wake, perhaps just to be able to speak with her, for a short while.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Most of the afternoon."

She peered out into the dark countryside, only the snow passing by the carriage lit by the outside lamps, visible when she realized they were deep into the countryside, "Will we stop?"

"No, we will go through the night. I know how eager you are to get home."

"Hm," she fumbled with the cloak, "Are you cold?" motioning to remove the heavy material.

"No, I am fine. Keep it."

"Was I shivering?"

"No, but I thought you might be cold." How was it that he could say such horrible things to her yesterday? How could he drive her to the brink of hatred and then bring her back so quickly? Niklaus was a strange man, one that could wound you with the harshest of words and then act so considerate, so caring in the next breath.

But was it all a lie? In 500 years he'd crafted a plethora of manipulative tools to use at his convenience. If he claimed he didn't care about the stone or what she did with it, what was the point of it all? "What was all of this for? The estate, the murder of the Lord Morris and Bosse, the girl…"

Niklaus had watched her sleep the entire afternoon, tracing and retracing her in his mind. He looked at her personal affects, tempted to read the book that her brother had loaned her, to understand why she had it with her so often. What did she write in those letters? Who were they to and what did they say? But he had finally decided to leave well enough alone, for the time being. Mayhaps it was best for him to leave a few things untold, undiscovered and keep the Lyanna he knew- the one that came to him that night, wrapped herself in his sheets the next morning, to himself.

"They were a means to an end... but not mine, yours."

He waited a few moments, the silence falling heavy around them. He'd tried to tell her in so many different ways. Hadn't he shown her? Everything that he'd done, all of the different ways he'd sought to spare her, "It was for you, Lyanna."

"Why?"

"Although you hate me, perhaps I do not care. You are right. I am selfish in my intentions and in my affections…."

"I do not hate you," she replied, although at times she wasn't so completely resolved on that matter. There were moments when she was sure, she'd rather see him curdle in misery than offer him a hand and she knew he felt the same.

"You are worth a great deal more than whatever price he would have asked and not because I wish to use you."

Jacob loved Rachel enough that the seven years felt like nothing but a few days. Klaus couldn't have understood it then for Father Hall never finished the lesson, but later he'd know it all too well. The few days that Jacob thought he toiled for Rachel were the easiest, because they still held some type of hope. But the loss of her, that lasted much longer than seven years.

"I would have bought you a thousand times, Lyanna."

Did he buy her to keep her, like some sort of possession, something for him to toy with until he was tired? A greater part of Lyanna wished to take him at his word, wholeheartedly, but part of her was still unsure. What exactly was he trying to say to her? The sentiment was nice but what did it really mean in the end?

The last real conversation that passed between them had started in the streets of London and would end only hours away from Greyshaw. The words tapering off for long periods when both seemed unsure, maybe scared, of what to say next. But when the morning sun peeked through the curtains of the carriage, glittering across Lyanna's face; she knew their time together, with just the two of them, no other complications, would soon be over.

She had perhaps asked him before, but never seriously, never with an investment in his answer. Now however, if she didn't ask, she was sure she'd always regret it, "You said once that you had loved… that she was never far. What did you mean by that?"

"You were right..." he acknowledged, somewhat seriously as if he was ready to begin a lengthy explanation but instead slowly continued, "I am avaricious, especially in my affections..."

She thought he'd leave at that, not say another word, always giving her some veiled confession but after sometime he finished, "I keep  _You_ close Lyanna and without apology."

In their last half hour together, Lyanna never responded to his answer. She was right when she knew this journey would be taxing, quite long, but never had she imagined they would leave Scrathclyde as they had days before and come back in the place they were with one another now or perhaps she had some inclination and that was what she truly feared.

When the carriage pulled in front of Greyshaw Manor, Lyanna gathered her things and returned Niklaus's cloak.

"Thank you," she acknowledged, before handing him a sealed letter. "You thought I forgot you..."

Niklaus looked down at the unmarked folded paper and then back to Lyanna.

"Never..." she finished, before accepting the coach man's hand as he helped her from the carriage.

The letter was stained with large ink blots and dated two days previous and simply read:

_Whatever happens, I'll never regret you._

_Lyanna_

Hope, Niklaus had left for London with resentment and had come back with hope. Maybe it was a curse, something he couldn't control, all of it part of a greater plan to unravel his existence but he didn't care. At the very least, he'd quieted the demons that lurked never far from his forethoughts; telling himself that if he were cursed then at the very least Lyanna was as well.

**_Scrathclyde_ **

**_1492 AD_ **

Upon arriving back at Greyshaw, Lyanna was completely unaware that it was all Hallow's Eve. The women had been invited to Harte Manor for a dinner and the regular festivities for the holiday. Exhausted from the journey Lyanna attempted multiple times to politely refuse the offer, send the girls and stay behind, but Katerina and Lilly were adamant that she should attend.

Close to noon, Lyanna was left to her rooms, searching for a gown to wear to the dinner. Hallow's Eve was unlike any of the other festivities they would participate in throughout the year. The first time Lyanna had taken witch's leafs was during this holiday. They drank in excess, stayed up until dawn, looking out over the moors for spirits. But that was when she was younger, before Nathaniel died and she knew of her mother. That was before there were spirits to fear, the ones Lyanna now knew were present, lurking in the moors, looking for what would never be theirs again. Perhaps if she'd had more time, they would have purchased materials for better masks but for now she would have to make do with what they had. Katerina would take hers, and Lyanna would wear Nathaniel's.

She was piecing through her jewellery, thinking of the carriage ride, what Niklaus had said and what it all meant, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called out, thinking it to be Elspeth, Lilly or perhaps Katerina but to her surprise it was Trevor.

Clearing his throat, "Lady Lockwood, I hope I have not come at a bad time."

Looking up from her mountain of frocks, she hurriedly grabbed the nearest dress and pulled it to her chest, covering her chemise.

Embarrassed, she began, "Trevor, I apologize but this really is not appropriate-"

"I know, My Lady, but I must speak with you. It is urgent, for the sake of Katerina."

Lyanna still flustered, looked about the room and then back to Trevor, finally pointing to the two chairs by the hearth she instructed, "Come, and let us sit."

Awkwardly she laid the dress over her legs and chest, skin pinking slightly from embarrassment but Trevor seemed to be completely unaware. Lyanna had no sooner sat when he begun, the words spilling from his mouth, "Lyanna, the Mikaelsons are not what you think."

The use of her first name was strange, never once could she remember Trevor addressing her by Lyanna.

She smiled, almost irritated, "I am well aware of they are, Trevor, as well as you, but still you have been invited into my home."

"I was not referring to that fact, Lyanna. I was speaking to the nature of the moonstone and the curse. What you have been told, whatever it might be, I assure you, it is not the truth."

Lyanna pressed her lips together; she should have never allowed Trevor around any of them. She should have always sensed that there was something wrong with him, that he was inhuman, "I know that Katerina is the doppelganger, Trevor. I know that the wolves want the moonstone but I have no intention of giving them either Miss Petrova or the stone."

"The wolves?" he questioned looking at her strangely for a moment, forehead wrinkling, "You mean Klaus?"

Lyanna smoothed the wrinkles of the dress she was using to cover herself. So this was his great reveal? Placating him, she replied patiently, "Yes I am aware that you want the moonstone as well to prevent the wolves from breaking the curse."

Trevor looked at her so strangely that she wondered if they were even having the same conversation. "They do not want the stone Lyanna, they have it. They want Katerina."

His words echoed through the room, slow and long, falling over her like a heavy weight,  _they have it_. They had what?

 _Impossible_! her mind screamed, racing a mile a minute suddenly. Her hands instantly became clammy as she pictured the moonstone no longer where she'd hidden it- its place of safe keeping empty. It wasn't possible that they had taken the moonstone. She'd checked on it the moment she'd arrived home. The brothers had already departed.

Her hands gripped the material of the gown, shaking, her heart pounding so loud that it was throbbing in her ears, "Impossible. I have the moonstone," she whispered.

Trevor shook his head, watching her as her skin flushed pink with anxiety, the gravity of the situation setting in, "Then it is not the real moonstone that you are carrying Lyanna. There have been many fakes over the centuries and I assure you, if anyone has the original it is the Mikaelsons and if they wanted that moonstone, they would have taken it from you already. They know each and every thing that happens in this house. The boy, the dirty little one that you call Simon- he has been keeping track of your movements. And he is likely not the only person in Greyshaw Manor doing so at this very moment."

"Simon?" The boy that ran in the kitchens? Suddenly Lyanna felt a wave of nausea come over her. Was it any wonder that Niklaus seemed to know all that happened behind these walls? How sickening, the perversion of it all, to not give her, Katerina or Lilly a moment of privacy. He was holding them captive even when they thought they were safe.

"They want Katerina," he finished.

 _No, he had promised her that they didn't want Kat. Elijah had promised Lyanna that they only had an interest in her, for the sake of the wolves. Elijah would never lie to her so blatantly. He was kind and loyal_. Shaking her head, she replied, "Why would they want, Kat? Too keep her from the wolves?"

"Yes and to break the curse for themselves, for us," he motioned to himself, amazed that she would know what they were and have thought any different, that the brothers' involvement with the women of Greyshaw could have been anything benign or benevolent.

Humans, they trusted so blindly.

Stammering, the words rushed from Lyanna's mouth, trying to find some way to contradict what Trevor was telling her, "So you can walk in the daylight? You already walk in the sun, Trevor."

Raising his hand, he pointed to the ring he wore, "Yes, because Rose and I were given rings for a short period of time. But not forever and if the curse is broken then we can control the werewolves. They are the only enemy we have, Lyanna."

It had all been a lie. Lyanna's heart, racing moments before, slowed to a crawl, the cold chill of reality, foolishness creeping over her skin. Rising from her chair, the gown slid to the floor, where it would remain. In a daze, lost her own thoughts, she no longer cared that she was standing in her chemise in front of Trevor. What did it matter anyhow?

She wandered over to the window, looking out over the moors to the Manor that sat in the distance. Every… single… word… had been a lie that she had fallen so soundly for, so pathetically.

_Images of her and Niklaus in London, that first night, the way he looked at her, "You will always be the exception, Lyanna."_

Still in shock, she stared at the fog rolling over the moors, the sky looked as though it threatened rain or snow, "How do I know you are not lying to me?"

"That night they found you in the woods with the wolves, Ines told me of it."

"The old woman?" The one, she had met that day in Harte Manor, before she knew anything about who they really were.

"Yes, the witch. They brought her to Scrathclyde to assist with the spell. She told me that Niklaus and Kol found you and Lilly in the woods."

Her fingers touched the glass, sounds of Lilly screaming still fresh in her mind, burnt fur and flesh, the smell of blood, "Yes they came for the stone,"  _or perhaps not,_ she thought now.

"They came for you and Lilly. They were holding Katerina and intended to do the sacrifice that night," he answered calmly. Trevor acted as if every word from his mouth wasn't just as damning of his actions as they were the Mikaelsons.

 _Lilly, her sweet sister, who was too young to have to know these types of things, "_ If all they needed was the stone, which apparently they have and Katerina, why would they need Lilly and I?"

"He needs a werewolf for the sacrifice. He intended to kill Lilly."

Lyanna closed her eyes, a taste so acrid filling her mouth that she could have sworn it was bile. They had come not for the stone, but for Lilly. Kol had come for Lilly and Niklaus to kill Lyanna. But didn't she already know this?

 _He'd always wanted her dead_ , the reality of that truth seemed to forever be attempting to sink into her mind but never succeeding.

"Then why not do it? There was an entire forest full of wolves. He could have had his pick."

"Klaus is nothing if not precise, Lord Mikaelson, when sure of something will always follow through. He decided that you and Lilly would die and he fully intends to finish the task." Trevor shifted in his seat, almost imitating human action.

Lyanna looked over at him and the ring he wore. She thought for a brief moment of what would happen if she ripped it from his finger. Would he burst into flames or would he suffer slowly? "Then why not let the wolves kill us? They could take Katerina if they wished. Why not just let us die?"

"I do not know. I am the messenger. I found Katerina. That was my task."

 _Yes,_ Lyanna decided,  _she would like to see Trevor burn, but not as much as she would Niklaus._ "And now what do you want? Why are you telling me this?"

"I love Katerina. I do not wish to see her die. And if you go to that dinner tonight, all of you will perish the following evening. They have no intention of letting you go."

The dinner, all Hallow's Eve, of course they were intent to have them come: all of them. The girls so excited for something that was meant to be their end.

 _How fitting,_ Lyanna thought,  _at the very least no one could accuse the Mikaelson brothers of not having a sense of humour: to bring them to a Hallow's Eve celebration and then kill them on All Saints Day. But they were far from saints. The women wouldn't be made martyrs, especially not her. Lyanna was far from innocent. Had it not been her responsibility to protect Lilly and Katerina? And had she not failed them both miserably?_

"Then we will stay here. Katerina and Lilly, they can leave."

"They would hunt them down like dogs on the road, before they even saw a hut in that village."

"Then what do you suggest? That we stay here? For how long?" she laughed at the absurdity. They would stay and all await their fates, not fighting, just giving up. How pathetic, that she should outmanoeuvre the wolves to have them all die a more gruesome death at the hands of their supposed allies.

"They need the full moon to perform the sacrifice."

 _And the full moon was on All Saints Day. Again, how appropriate._  Niklaus flashed through her mind,  _God, how convincing he could be. How she'd known the entire time, could feel that something was always wrong but she'd ignored it when she should have listened._ "We cannot stay in our home, Trevor, they have been invited in."

They needed a plan. Trevor may have told her the truth, but how would it serve them in the end if nothing could be done about it? "We are going to the dinner tonight."

_Lilly, she only had another full night before she would turn again. If they were to act they would have to tonight, when she was still able to control herself._

"Lyanna-" he started but was quieted when she held up her hand stopping him.

"You will not say a word to Katerina. She is coming as well." Lilly would not be coming to dinner that evening but Katerina must. If she did not, they would know. Suddenly like pieces of a puzzle, she started to work out in her mind how she would save Lilly and Katerina. She had to. Did she not owe them at the very least that? It was her responsibility to protect them and she'd failed completely.

Rising from his chair, he was in front of Lyanna in less than seconds, hands on her shoulders giving her a quick shake as if to bring her from her stupor, "Have you not heard a word I am telling you?"

Lilly would leave in the day light. They would never expect it. "Perfectly clear, if I do not have the moonstone, then where is the moonstone?" she responded quickly. Lyanna needed rapid thoughts, fast plans, anything to keep her from thinking of the lies she'd been told.

"He keeps it in a room on the first level, across from the library. No one from the house is allowed in, it's where he paints. There is a desk, the bottom drawer," Trevor stopped looking off into the distance as if he were receiving his information from somewhere else (Ines), "There is a false bottom in the drawer, under something. He keeps it there."

Searching Trevor's face, she realized then that she had no other choice but to rely on him. If he was deceiving her, they would all die and if he wasn't perhaps Lilly and Katerina would live, "I will send a carriage back with Katerina. You will be waiting here for her. When I return from the Harte Manor-"

"They will never let you leave," Trevor interrupted, trying to plead with her.

Shaking his grasp from her shoulders, she continued more forcefully, " _When,_ Katerina returns to Greyshaw Manor, you will wait with her until I return.  _I_ will tell her."

"And what good can the knowledge of certain death if nothing will be done about it?" He had come to her to make a plan to give her the option to run when he took Katerina, not for her to let Kat die.

"Katerina will live Trevor. She needs that moonstone. They cannot perform the spell without it. When she has the moonstone, you will take her into the woods." Walking across the room, she continued sorting through her dresses, as if nothing had changed.

She would have to pretend that nothing had changed. She would have to stay calm for Lilly. She would have to appear unaffected for Katerina.

"It is too close to a full moon," he protested, "If something were to happen to me, if Elijah or Klaus were to discover… there will be no hope for her."

Pulling a black frock from the pile, one she had worn when she was in mourning, she answered, "There is a cottage, in the woods. A widow lives there."

"Grace…"

"I will send Lilly to and Elspeth to the abbey..." she rattled off to herself, thinking of how she would possible try to explain to them.

Interrupting, Trevor replied, "And Katerina...?"

"Yes, no wolf will track you there and no vampire can be let in unless invited. You will tell her that I have sent you. " Walking to the table across the room, she plucked the pen out of the ink well, pulling a piece of parchment from the dwindling stack. Quickly she scribbled a message, signing her name.

"You will give this to her."

"Can she read?"

Exasperated, she answered, "Yes, she can read. You will give this to her and she will allow you inside."

Taking the letter from her hand, he replied, "And Elijah and Klaus?"

Enemies, Lyanna had so many enemies and what had she done to earn such a fate? Perhaps all of her ghosts would be put to rest on all Hallow's Eve.

"They will have other concerns…."

* * *

How do you tell someone you love, that you will never see them again? It was simple, you do not. Lyanna had only one choice and it was to lie to Lilly and Elspeth.

_How Lyanna hated liars._

She had drawn them both into her rooms, placing rags under the door, to muffle their voices further. From the look on her face, Lilly and Elspeth knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. Wearing a grave expression, Lyanna's hands clenched and unclenched, her skin looking almost ashen. After Trevor had left, she'd tried to compose herself before she sought out both women. She'd tried to order her thoughts so that she may be as composed as possible when facing them. If she panicked they would as well.

But the thoughts, all of the horrible thoughts: angry, bitter, disturbed, shamed, anguish and mourning. If Lyanna allowed herself she might drown in mourning of all her beautiful illusions, the lies that she'd so easily believed. She would have allowed rage to consume her at the mere thought of Elijah but especially Niklaus.

Lyanna tried to think of the best way possible to explain to Elspeth that she had been right all along. She tried to find the words to explain to Lilly that Kol did not care for her as it may seem, that his intentions towards her were in fact much more sinister. Finally it was Elspeth that asked if it was all about the stone. And it was then that Lyanna had to explain that the Mikaelsons were not at all what they had led the women to believe.

Horror spread over Lilly's face when she explained, "The stone they want is not the one that we have and it is not just the wolves that want it."

Reaching for Lilly's hand, the girl stared back at her blankly, confused, the wheels in her mind beginning to turn. Standing, Elspeth muttered something in Gaelic, knowing exactly where Lyanna was going with this conversation, "I knew we should have never trusted the blood suckers."

Gripping her finger, Lilly looked at Lyanna as if she were still wholly confused, "What do you mean?"

"They want Katerina dead, Lilly." The thought had been tossed back and forth hundreds of times in her mind since Trevor's revelation, but hearing those words from her own lips were surprising. Lilly sat, mouth open, holding her breath, completely confused.

Cautiously, Lyanna continued, "If they sacrifice her, they break the spell for themselves."

 _If they sacrifice her?! What did that even mean?_ Lilly thought.

In that moment Lyanna regretted greatly that she'd kept Katerina's secret, the prophecy of the doppelganger to herself and never told another soul. As she recanted the things she'd hidden from Lilly and Elspeth, she could feel her stomach roll and knot. The look of pure betrayal on Lilly's face: that she knew of a possible cure for the werewolves, that this is what they truly wanted, why Arthur and the pack sought the moonstone and she'd kept it from her.

Somewhere in the midst of Lyanna's explanation, Lilly dropped her hand, pushing herself slightly away. The disconnect was small, but it felt like an ocean had suddenly divided them. A body of lies, no rather omissions, but deceit just the same.

"They already walk in the sun," Lilly answered, her voice hollow and flat.

Knowing that she'd have to accept Lilly's reaction, whatever anger or bitterness she felt towards Lyanna because she had every right, she sighed softly and replied, "They will have control of the werewolves."

"They plan to kill, Katerina?" Elspeth questioned out of nowhere, standing in the corner of the room, completely silent moments earlier.

Nodding her head, Lyanna turned to Lilly, waiting until the she acknowledged her, "And you as well and me…. They need a werewolf Lilly to complete the sacrifice."

 _How many times had he lied to her?_ Lilly's mind swam: images of Kol, things they'd promised one another. The muscles in her in her thighs and forearms twitched, clenching and unclenching, as a wave of rage trickled through her.

 _Run with me, Lilly,_ he had told her. He'd promised her something he never intended to fulfil. He had weaved an illusion so elaborated that she'd fallen for it without thought. She'd allowed him into her bed. She'd told him things she'd never even admitted to Katerina or Lyanna. And he'd known the entire time. Kol had been plotting all along to kill her, well technically her, Lyanna and Katerina.

If she saw him in that moment she would have left a track of bite marks so vile, his body would've rot from the inside out with her poison as her mind had with his.

Closing her eyes, her nails dug into the fabric of her gown. Long slow, deep breaths and thoughts of murderous rage, consumed her for minutes. But if she didn't control herself, this close to the full moon, she'd move into a fit. Lilly would be throwing furniture, venting her rage on Lyanna or possibly Elspeth, which would help no one at the moment. Finally she replied, "What will we do?"

Looking to both women, she knew that the rest of what she said would be met with immediate obstinacy and denial, "You are leaving, both you and Elspeth."

"No," both women echoed in unison.

"I will not leave without you, Lyanna," Lilly, snapped more than pleaded, Lyanna watching the veins of her neck bulge as she tried to control herself.

"I will not leave the land," Elspeth concluded as well.

And now had come the difficult part, the elaborate lie she would have to tell both women in order to save them from what she had planned, "You must. If we wait too long, it will be too close to the full moon Lilly and then you will never be able to go."

Looking to the elderly woman, that had raised her as her own child, she started, "I want you to take Lilly, Elspeth."

"No-"she quickly interrupted. Elspeth would rather die herself, than let anything happen to Lyanna.

Rising from her seat she met her foster mother half way, reaching out for her hand, gripping it as hard as she could- trying to hold on to their last bit of time together, "Listen to me. I want you to take Lilly. I you go into the village, to the abbey," reaching inside her dress she withdrew a piece of parchment and placed a letter inside Elspeth's hand, "You will give this to Father Hall as soon as you arrive."

"I will not leave without you," Elspeth answered sharply, as Lilly sat dazed staring off into the distance, so much hatred swirling in her thoughts that she was consumed.

"I am leaving with Katerina, after the feast. Someone must go with her, yes? And we cannot all vanish at once," Lyanna replied smiling, still gripping Elspeth's hand, almost trying to laugh the matter off, because for all they knew, they were all leaving and they would all meet again soon.

"Now, Lilly… Lilly!" she called out to her a little more forcefully, bringing the girl from her temporary stupor.

"Yes?"

"I… I want you to get me the blade over there," she pointed to the small table by the bed, "In the drawer. There are men all over this house, eyes for the Mikaelsons and we…" she hesitated, fear and worry creeping into her voice for a moment before she began again, "We cannot very well have you walk out of here in plain sight now can we?"

Turning back to Elspeth she dropped her hand, "I need you to do a few things. Please go to Jon in the stables and bring him here, also ask him to borrow some of his clothing. We will need it for Lilly."

Standing beside her now, Lilly held out the blade, "What is this for?"

"To cut your hair, Love. We are going to dress you as a man and you will leave during the distraction." As she guided her to the chair by the only mirror she had in the room, she stopped Elspeth whom was standing at the door, "One more thing…." Lyanna hesitated, "The reserves that we have of the Vervain as well as the Wolfsbane. I need you to do a spell, Elspeth…" her fingers laced through Lilly's beautiful long dark, curly hair, stringing it out before she began cutting through it, "I need you to multiply it, ten times the quantity we have now. And… spread it, around on the perimeter of the Manor. No one else, Elspeth, only you."

"They will know something is wrong Lyanna," Elspeth started, her face, contorting into a grimace of worry.

"Not if they are distracted with other things…."

As Elspeth left to gather Jon from the stable and do the things requested, Lilly watched as her beautiful hair drifted to the ground in Lyanna's rooms. When it was done, there was nothing left but a pile next to the chair and the short, curly strands that sat on top of her head.

Looking at Lyanna in the mirror, Lilly grabbed her hand, garnering her attention, "Tell me that everything will be okay, Lyanna."

To her sister she smiled, warm and comforting, "Of course, Love. Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

Perhaps the easiest part was done, telling Lilly and Elspeth, convincing them that they needed to run, preparing for all the parts of her plan was simplest. Her conversation with Jon would be hard. They needed a distraction. Something to warrant loose lips instead of prying eyes and there was no one else that she could ask (not that she could have ever before imagined herself doing so) than Jon.

When he'd nervously entered her rooms, hat in his dirty hands, eyes cast to the ground, he refused to sit, saying instead, "I wouldn't wish to ruin your lovely things Milady."

"You would not be ruining a thing, Jon. Please do sit. I need to speak with you."

Lyanna had hardly begun fumbling through her story, getting to her difficult request when he cut her short, "It seems to me, Milady, that something needs to happen."

When she finally asked, stumbling through her reasoning, her apology, her pleas for his forgiveness, he stopped her again, "Milady, I knew you as a child. I knew your husband and I served his father as well. It would be an honour."

There were few times that there was honour in death but for the stable master, there was little he could do except offer his own life. When the rope wrapped around Jon's neck and he stood atop the chair that supported his weight, there wasn't a moment's hesitation, as he rocked his hips side to side, eventually tipping the only thing left supporting him. When his neck snapped there was a not person there to say goodbye to the old man, but when his body was discovered not an hour later, there were mouths all over Greyshaw Manor uttering his name for the first time. So consumed were the people of the house, with gossip, telling tales of the sad old man that worked in the stables, they didn't notice Elspeth walked the perimeters of the house, spreading her oils over the light layer of snow that covered the ground.

They were so distracted that no one noticed when Elspeth loaded herself into the wagon accompanied by a young man, dressed in ragged breeches and a heavy cloak, his face mostly covered. With only moments to spare before someone would see them, Lyanna grabbed Lilly so hard, that she knocked the wind out of the young girl.

"I love you, Lilly. I love so dearly."

"Promise me you will stay safe, Lyanna. Promise me no matter what, you will run, you will meet us south on the Isle of Man."

"Yes I promise Lilly," she answered, kissing her forehead, holding on to her for the last few seconds they would have together. But it was a promise she'd never keep. Lilly unknowingly held the key to Lyanna's death in her hands. The letter addressed to Father Hall that asked him to broker with the wolves, to go to Arthur that evening and tell him that she would hand over the stone in exchange for Lilly's release, for the men to not stop either her or Elspeth on the road.

Quickly Lyanna released her, pushing Lilly forward towards Elspeth, whom she'd already cried over and said a lengthy goodbye to in her rooms.

_"I loved you, like you were my own," the elderly woman had told her, cradling Lyanna like she did when she was still a child._

_"I was yours, Elspeth. I will always be yours. You are my mother."_

As Elspeth and Lilly started boarding the wagon, Lyanna had begun rushing back towards the house, hiding out of view from anyone that might've been looking out over the property. She shouldn't have even come out to say goodbye but if she had nothing else, for the rest of the time that she'd live, she needed those last few moments with Lilly.

Standing by the wagon, with her head partially down, Lilly looked back to where she knew Lyanna stood hidden from sight, tears streaming down her face.

 _We will meet again soon, soon we will meet,_ she told herself repeatedly, as Elspeth tugged her up into the wagon. As they rolled away, Lilly couldn't help herself. She looked back at Greyshaw Manor, the only home she'd ever had and to the spot where Lyanna stood and wept openly. She never had a chance to say goodbye to Katerina. But wouldn't she see her again?

Lilly swore to herself, it was only for a short while before they were all reunited once more.

* * *

Entering the grand entry way of Harte Manor, Lyanna helped Katerina with her cloak. Hands shaking, she attempted a few low deep breaths, her stomach so knotted from anger and hatred that she could hardly breathe.

"What is that?" Katerina questioned, as she fixed the string that kept the wooden mask, painted gold that she'd borrowed from Lilly, tightly secured to her face. Looking down at the book Lyanna held to her side, she reached for it when Lyanna pulled away smiling, "Nothing just something for Elijah."

She turned following the guard down the halls, heavy black fabric swishing against stone floors.  _Something for Elijah,_ the sound of his name from Lyanna's mouth sent a pulse of annoyance through Katerina. But now wasn't the time to be jealous. Wouldn't she prove to Elijah that she was more than capable of being mature and that she was worthy perhaps of his affection rather than Lyanna? Picking up her red skirt, Katerina trailed after her.

The two women were hand and hand as they were escorted into a common area. The men stood around the hearth, drinks in hand, dressed accordingly for the occasion. Each wore a mask but unlike the women, the three of them looked remarkably the same.

"Lady Lockwood, Katerina… so nice to see you both," Elijah greeted, calmly as both women entered. Katerina was a vision as always, dressed brightly, highly ornamented. Lyanna was quite the opposite. In a black frock, with a black mask, loose blond curls draped over her shoulders. The only colour she wore was the gold necklace around her neck.

Extending her hand for Elijah to kiss Katerina answered, before Lyanna could have the chance, "My Lords, you look festive."

"Yes, indeed…" Klaus interrupted, seemingly already bored with Katerina's company.

"And where is the young Lady Lockwood?" he asked, somewhat sharply as if he were already suspicious. Kol standing slightly off to the side had been anxiously wondering the exact same thing, waiting for her to enter at any moment, but knew all too well to not ask. He didn't need to draw anymore suspicion to himself than what his brother might already be concocting in his mind. One more night, he just needed to make it until morning and then he would be gone, with Lilly, for forever.

Poignantly, looking at Niklaus she answered, "You'll have to excuse Lilly; she was feeling ill… the season and all."

Klaus sipped his brandy, seemingly appeased and Kol breathed a sigh of relief and then quickly again began to worrying of her condition. If they were this close to a full moon and she was already incapacitated, what would her condition be the following night?

Lyanna could feel him watching her, like a spider watching a bug, waiting patiently for it to fly into its web and she knew that eventually she would have to acknowledge him, Lyanna would have to address the cataclysm of anger, resentment and betrayal she felt towards Niklaus. But not yet, not quite yet, she'd ignore him for moments longer. She would deal with Elijah first because although he'd lied to her, deceived her and played a heavy hand in everything as well, the betrayal didn't feel nearly as bitter.

"Elijah," Lyanna smiled but felt Niklaus taking her hand, kissing it, interrupting, "Lady Lockwood, thank you for joining us this evening," like a child desperate for attention.

Subtly pulling her hand back, she carefully avoided looking him in the eyes, before again turning her attention to Elijah, "Elijah…"

"Lyanna…" kissing her cheek instead in greeting, he noticed Katerina stiffen in his peripheral view, her face wrapping into a tight smile as she watched them, accepting a greeting from both Kol and Klaus. He wouldn't let himself succumb to it, not tonight. It was their last night together, the last night he'd see Lyanna… however, didn't that also make it the last night he would ever see her as well and be acquainted with the mystery and naivety that was Katerina Petrova?

"And what is that in your hand?" he nodded downwards to the book cradled by her side.

"A return, thank you for the loan…."

Taking her by the arm, Elijah led Lyanna away from Katerina and his brothers, giving them a moment of privacy. "You need not return it. It was yours to have."

Handing him the book of poetry she thought,  _until I die you mean?_ She considered not returning it. She considered letting it meet the same fate as everything else that she'd once owned but for whatever reason she felt a pull to give it back. When she'd written his inscription she'd pictured a much different Elijah, one that she was sure she could tell anything. She pictured the man that he fell in love with in the garden. And although he was clearly not the illusion she thought she had found. Part of Lyanna wished to hold on to that for even a moment longer: to still honour what was there. Even if it was brief, she was sure was real. The friendship and understanding they had fostered, the love, that much she was sure- that some of it had to be grounded in truth. And if not, she preferred just this once to accept the lie.

Niklaus watched as his brother took the novel from Lyanna and then leaned in kissing her gently on the cheek, his fingers wrapping tighter around the goblet, leaving indentations in the metal.

"I think dinner is served," he announced interrupting Lyanna and Elijah, Katerina and Kol. As they made their way towards the dining hall, Katerina, locked pace with Elijah, "Care to offer an arm?"

He found her looking sweetly up at him and although he knew the little game she was likely playing with him, part of Elijah was never sure. Was it all just a game to Katerina? He knew the answer was no. Somewhere beneath the fake smiles she showed everyone else, the desperation she tried to hide, there was still vulnerability, a naivety that he couldn't stop himself from being endeared to, even when he wished to deny it the most.

So much like Tatia, Katerina was at times.

"Of course, Miss Petrova."

Kol led the way from the room, trying to force himself to act as normal as possible but his mind was anywhere but there. A few more hours, only a while longer and the torture of waiting would be over.

"Lyanna," Niklaus's hand subtly trailed down the back of her wrist, as he walked beside her and for a moment, Lyanna felt how she used to, before she knew it was all a lie. That was until she met his gaze, "Niklaus," and it came flooding back: every single confession he'd ever spoken had made her a fool.

She smiled politely, giving him just enough from him to not be suspicious, before she picked up her pace, heading into the next room, just in front of him. Before there could be a question of seating arrangements, Kol took his place at the head of the table, followed by Niklaus on his left and Elijah on his right. Pulling out a chair, Elijah offered Lyanna a seat before Katerina could think to position herself closer, leaving Niklaus no option but to give Katerina the chair by his side.

 _It was better that way,_ he assured himself,  _keep the doppelganger close. She was his first priority._ The servers scurried about bringing out trays. When the first course was served, Klaus began, "You look like death, Lady Lockwood," reaching for his glass of wine.

The irritation he was trying so hard to hide behind charm was filtering through with blaring clarity. Elijah and Kol would chalk it up to anxiousness, waiting 500 years for tomorrow night's activities. But Katerina knew the truth, perhaps one that not even Lyanna could see clearly. He was jealous, seething with it, just as was she. Both of them seemingly on the outside always, of Elijah and Lyanna's little world- no matter how hard they tried to gain access; they would only ever be denied.

"How appropriate," she replied with a half smile, as Elijah interrupted, leaning closer, "I think you look beautiful, Lyanna."

Elijah felt an immediate desire to reach for her under the table, attempt to take her hand, to hold onto something pure between them, all the good things Lyanna saw in Elijah, for a moment but resisted. He'd promised himself that he was letting her go, wasn't he?  _It meant nothing,_  he promised himself.

Elijah looked across the table, feeling Klaus's eyes on him, as if he knew what he was contemplating. He was so suspicious of his every move, so intent that every small look was as good as a confession of intended betrayal.

_He would give Klaus, Lyanna and stand by as he slandered innocent Katerina as well. Elijah would help Klaus break the curse at the expense of his own sanity. Was that not enough? No nothing would ever be enough for his brother._

Setting down his glass he looked leeringly over at the pair. This must all be an act, a simple game she was playing with him, to appease his brother.  _Oh Lyanna, his Lyanna. Soon neither of them would have to play anymore. The curse would be broken and Lyanna his. Elijah's feelings on the matter, irrelevant._

But until then, he would play along, keeping up their pretence of cat and mouse, "You have not touched your dinner, Lady Lockwood. Is there something wrong with the meal?"

The entire table seemed to stare at her as she politely replied, "No it is delicious. I apologize, it must be the traveling- my stomach is weak."

Elijah leaning in closer, asked in hush tone, "Would you like me to fetch Ines?"

And that was when it happened, if he wasn't aware of Lyanna's every moment, every inflection in her voice, he wouldn't have noticed it, but turning slightly, her hand touched Elijah's under the table, "No, that is not necessary."

It was spiteful, childish and below her, Lyanna knew it the moment she touched Elijah but she didn't care. It was all a game, wasn't it? Should she not play an appropriate role? Should she not fall into place? Maybe it was all a lie. No rather, it was. Every single second Lyanna spent around Niklaus reeked of deception and if she could not point out his hypocrisy, if she could not scream and threaten as she wished, she would dig at him the only way left within her means. If he was so intent on her being a toy, she'd make sure, even if it was in the last hours of her life, that he knew, regardless of their ending, that he would never owned her.

As the dinner pressed on, Lyanna hardly touched her food, but instead chose to drink. Her stomach couldn't tolerate the meat, but with each splash of wine past her tongue, it helped quell the rage that was begging to burst forth.

 _I hate you,_ she wanted to whisper every time he looked her way. It wasn't the first time Lyanna had thought it, but it was certainly the first time she knew for sure that it was true. She did hate him, with a kind of passion she had never felt towards anyone before.

_I would have bought you a thousand times, Lyanna…._

And she loved him as well and despised herself for it. Did she love him for what she believed him to be or did she really love him for what she knew he was? What did it say about her as a person if it was the latter?

Elijah looked from Lyanna, smiling politely, carrying on pleasant conversation with Kol and attempting to with his other brother, to Katerina. He was wrong before, to be so harsh with her. He knew that now. She was a just a woman, a young, somewhat still naïve, woman. Katerina knew not the games that she played yet.

A girl so unaware should not be caught between him and Niklaus, their ongoing struggle for loyalty and possession. Her hours were numbered as it was; lest she not live them thinking that she was used.

_Love cannot be real if it is not returned._

_What was love?_ Elijah was still left to wonder.  _Was it how he once felt about Tatia, wanting something so desperately that would never be his to own? Was love Lyanna? Was it kindness, an understanding, a desire to never leave someone, a yearning to be the person that they saw in you? Or was love, just another simple need? Could love be as quick and unquenchable as the compulsion he felt around Katerina, which tempted him away from loyalty? Perhaps it was everything at once but none of them ever permanently._

She smiled in his direction and he couldn't help but return it. If Lyanna saw everything he wanted to believe he was, Katerina saw his monster and even wholly unaware of what he really was, of what he was completely capable of, she somehow understood.

 _Don't touch me,_ she begged one moment, leaving him to believe that finally she understood what Lyanna might not see. But soon after, she'd always follow up her curse with,  _come closer._

Passion, idiocy and a kind of palatable, damming heresy was the only way to describe Katerina Petrova. She teetered somewhere between a dark, recondite puzzle, the never ending maize of reactions and a simplicity, a naivety that was infectious.

_You have to catch me…._

Only she didn't understand. She should never wish for him to either chase or reach his goal for it would only end poorly for her.

When the final round of wine was served, Kol tossed a look at both of his brothers, knowing that it was likely the last time he would see either. Betrayal, if he was Elijah he would've stayed and waited for Lilly to die. He would follow Klaus blindly because he feared his wrath and would never be anything but honourable. Kol wondered for a moment if Elijah would ever hold that kind of loyalty to him. Would he ever blindly defend what Kol wanted?

He guessed not or rather knew the answer. The only true loyalties Klaus and Elijah held to anyone were to each other. And Klaus's definition of loyal was murky at best. He'd not feel guilty for what he was about to do. Kol wouldn't feel a moment of remorse for betraying either brother because there would have to a foundation of trust first, for it to be breeched. And Kol had never truly held trust in either Elijah or Klaus. If he had, then Rebekah wouldn't be holding the witch's daughter for collateral.

After the late evening meal, they stood once again in sitting room. Kol had retired early without excuse or apology, leaving just the four of them behind.

"Should we go watch the ghosts come over the moors?" Katerina taunted.

"Ghosts?" Klaus questioned, looking at Lyanna. It was a strange way to spend the evening, their masks covering their faces even throughout the meal, hiding the expression of their eyes and perhaps it was a blessed relief.

What the three of them seemed too intent on ignoring was stifling for Katerina. _Yes, let us look at the ghosts. Let us do anything to break this tension._ Throughout dinner, even in conversation, Klaus hardly ever removed his eyes from Lyanna.

Katerina couldn't have cared less for whatever struggle they seemed to be play at, only that Elijah was unknowingly perhaps caught in the middle. How he continued to not see his brother's blatant desire for Lyanna Lockwood was puzzling to her. Had she looked closely before, she wondered if it had always been this way? Every movement Lyanna made, Klaus mirrored, keeping his distance until he thought no one could see or perhaps no one (Elijah) preferred not to notice.

Lyanna was clearly as aware of him as he was she, but for each move he made towards her, she seemed to pull back further into Elijah. And Elijah, oblivious to it all, accepting graciously. It was a strangled, awkward little game, which served as nothing more than an obstacle for Katerina.

"It is late," Lyanna observed, setting down her goblet, "Perhaps we should be heading home."

When Katerina opened her mouth to protest, she was cut off first by Niklaus, "Perhaps it is however-" but Lyanna acted quickly leaning in and placing her hand on Niklaus's arm, "Elijah, will you escort Katerina home?"

Trevor was right they had no intention of letting them leave if Lyanna did not make a reason.

"Are you not coming Lyanna?" She stepped even closer to Niklaus. It was subtle but she knew he understood immediately the meaning.

"Yes, I will be shortly behind. I have business from London that Niklaus and I need to speak on."

There was a pause, a long look that passed between Elijah and his brother. It was a silent asking of opinions. Lyanna was trying to reconfigure the plan, one they had likely worked out long before. She could only hope now that what little feeling Niklaus had for her, perhaps just the soul's need to feel as though he'd won between them and she would submit would be enough of a distraction for him to allow Katerina to go.

The seconds stretched out, so long that Lyanna feared she'd mistaken him all along. Perhaps he not only had he lied about his affection but faked his desire as well. She could only pray that at the very least, she was not wrong in that.

"Yes, please do Elijah," he finally replied, giving the silent approval for the change in plans. He would let Katerina go, in what later he would realize would be one of many mistakes he made in those last, few precious hours. But he did it for her. He let the doppelganger go (unknowingly), his future and all the plans he'd made for 500 years, just for the chance to see what it was that Lyanna wanted of him. Throughout the entirety of dinner, she'd treated him as if he were almost invisible or a stranger. She'd retracted back to the first few months that they knew one another. As if London had never happened.

He assumed she struggled with how to reconcile the situation with his brother. Poor Elijah, it seemed he again would not have what he wanted. He turned as they left, a smirk partially forming on his face, when he started, "Do tell what business is it exactly that we have to discuss, Lady Lockwood?"

Lyanna had two goals at play in this situation, she had hopefully allowed a way for Katerina to leave and be escorted back to what little safety they had left in the world. Now she needed the moonstone. She would have to find a way to manipulate Niklaus as he so easily had done so with her.

The only problem was that he had used love and Lyanna knew that such a tactic would never work on him. He did not love her. Niklaus loved no one but for all he knew she was still oblivious.

Lyanna smoothed her hands over the wrinkles in her dressed before reaching behind for her mask and slowly untying the string, setting the disguise aside, she reached for his.

"Will that not ruin the festivities?" he mocked.

Lyanna didn't answer. If she was going to do this, she would do it right. She would have to set aside the bitter hatred that she had for Niklaus and focus on the brief love she once felt. Reaching up on her toes, her hand wrapped around the back of his head as he stiffened momentarily, before deciding to trust her and leaning forward, allowing Lyanna to untie the mask and discard it as she had her own.

Looking up at him, she told herself that he wasn't Klaus. Klaus was the thing that tried to kill everything she loved. He'd allowed her to be stabbed to death. Klaus had slept with Katerina as if she were a play thing to be discarded.

Lyanna had loved Niklaus. She convinced herself for those few minutes and perhaps a few after that she was speaking to him. She was addressing the man that had found her in the village, stood by her as she burned the garden and reached for her hand when she was utterly alone in the world. She was looking at Niklaus, who had bought her from death and did it only to see her live- no other alternative reason.

 _It was for you, Lyanna…_  She wanted to be with the persona that asked her hesitantly if she regretted him because then she could honestly still believe her answer. Lyanna would never feel remorse for willingly involving herself in with Niklaus. Tracing his face as she had that first night together, she slowly leaned in and kissed the memory of what she loved.

If he was somewhat surprised, it showed for only a moment before he was returning her affection, hand brushing over her back, drawing her slightly closer, before she stopped him, pushing away to stop herself from drowning all together, "Did you mean what you told me in the carriage?"

Did he mean when he'd almost confessed: that he cared for her? Niklaus had thought about that conversation all day and laminated somewhere between relief and horrid disgust with himself.

"That would depend on the exact topic," he tried to deter somewhat coldly. Although no matter the subject the answer would have been the same,  _Yes._

Lyanna stepped away, perhaps partially in character and also as a natural reaction. For every step they took forward, before she knew it to be a lie, they always seemed to take two backwards. Now that she was at the very least aware of the game, why should she think it would be any different? "Is London over?"

_No, it was just beginning. They would have a thousand more Londons. Perhaps only a few minor brushes with death, but so many more of everything that had passed between them that was good: everything that didn't reek completely of betrayal or deception. They would have it all, after the doppelganger died and Lyanna was turned, saving her from death. If her life was linked to the Katerina's then he would make sure, that being human was no longer a problem for Lyanna._

Before he could formulate his response they were interrupted, "Lord Mikaelson, may I have a word with you?" Ines stood in the doorway, looking at both of them poignantly.

Looking back to Lyanna, clearly annoyed that they were being interrupted he replied flatly, "Yes, just a moment Ines."

Lyanna looked past him to witch, who gave her a look of such knowing that she understood immediately why Ines had appeared. Trevor had told her that the old woman had given him his information on the moonstone. For whatever reason, she seemed to be just as invested in the unravelling, the escape of Katerina and the foiling of Niklaus's plans as Lyanna.

She'd worried in the back of her mind all throughout dinner, contemplating how she would get to the stone and get Katerina out of the Manor. It seemed Ines was well aware of her struggle, giving her an opportunity at that very moment.

"Excuse me, My Lord but it is of a matter of interest," she stated in a way that truly gave Klaus no other choice. Her tone screamed that her concerns had something to do with his plans or specifically his doppelganger. He would have an eternity with Lyanna, but he only had one shot with the doppelganger and breaking his curse.

"Lyanna, we will continue this in a moment," he nodded, before following Ines out of the room. Lyanna waited moments, hearing them as they trailed down the hall. She listened until their voices had grown faint, before peeking out into the deserted corridor. When she found no one, she knew it was now or never.

* * *

Her hands hand fumbled as they tried to quietly dig through the drawer she had been instructed to search shaking violently when she found the false bottom, removing it and discovering the real moonstone. Placing the Lockwood family heirloom within the drawer and replacing the false bottom, she breathed a sigh of relief, looking out the widow over the moors.

She had done it.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, looking at her curiously from the doorway.

With her back turned to him, she slipped the stone into the folds of her dress.

"Waiting for you."

Thoughts of his brother; the hushed conversation that had taken place between her and Elijah not an hour before; the passing of that book she carried with her in London, flashed through his mind, itching away at his patience and resolve. But he wouldn't let it bother him. Niklaus wouldn't let something so inconsequential affect him. In the end Elijah would be nothing to Lyanna. A friendship and perhaps at one time, the promise of something more but after tomorrow it would clear what role Elijah would play in her existence; and it wouldn't be as it had been before.

Niklaus smiled, this time genuine. He had made up his mind. He'd find a way to tell Elijah, explain to Kol. This was the way it had to be. The doppelganger had to die despite what Lyanna's feeling would be on that matter. The words were straight from Ines's mouth; kill the doppelganger and hunter would die as well. Only he wouldn't live without Lyanna and so he'd have to make sure that was never an issue. The human hunter would die and from her corpse,  _his Lyanna_ would flower. In a few decades, a couple hundred years after her turn, she would forget. She'd let go of Katerina, forget Lilly, long after the girls' lives would have naturally expired.

It would take time and  _that_ he had plenty of. Especially now that they would be safe from Mikael's never ending hunt. Tomorrow, he'd find a way to explain it all to her tomorrow or the next day.

He pressed his face into her hair, uncharacteristically almost nuzzling her. Mayhaps it was the sudden sense of relief that had come over him that made him almost sentimental.

"You have found me," he answered, kissing her neck, feeling his fangs begging to extend, to scrape along her skin.  _Not yet, not today._  Tomorrow and every day after, she would change her mind. When she too knew what it was like to feed, to want to feed, she'd let him taste her and would gladly take from him.

An arm trailed over her waist, hand cupping her breast feeling the scars from London, knowing that soon they would be gone as he pressed her into him- nudging himself against the back of her thigh- hinting. Hand leaving her hip, he gently pulled at the laces of her dress until it could slip underneath. Still looking out of the window motionless, Lyanna's eyes closed when his cold fingers hit bare skin.

_Why? Why did he have to lie to her? Why was she always right?_

Every moment, every second, they had shared in London- all the things she'd said and meant. Lyanna could choke on her words now. She could scream at her own idiocy: twice in love and twice a fool.

At this moment, Lilly was most likely leaving the abbey heading west with Elspeth. Soon Katerina would follow, running where ever it was that Trevor would take her. She could feel the sadness coming over her, perhaps it was self pity. Maybe it was still raw anger. But in all actuality it was resolve.

He turned her to face him, kissing her, hands running through her hair.

"Stay Lyanna," he requested, against her lips, eyes closed. "Forget about Elijah, Katerina…."

 _Yes_ , she thought,  _You would forget about them because they are expendable to you. We are all expendable._

"Soon enough we will have to be honest with them. We will tell them the truth," he finished, looking her in the eyes, kissing her again. His movements were more desperate with emotion than usual, almost vulnerable.

Fear was causing his walls to come down. Soon, in hours, it wouldn't be like this. He'd lose her for a time to resentment and hatred. He wanted to enjoy what bliss they had left, so he could hold on to it while he waited.

Lyanna saw it as deception, an act: all of it an elaborate act. She couldn't even find it in herself to feel loss. It was broken but hadn't always been? Hadn't she and Niklaus always been a disaster? It was difficult to grieve the death of something that never was.

His hands ran under her skirts, fingers dancing over the hideous mark that Lord Morris had left her with before, pushing her back onto to the table, moving books. Tugging at her small clothes, he meant to take her now, quick and heated and then later, slow and considerate, just how she liked it. He would hold her like he'd tried to in London, let her sleep next to him and count his last hours of peace.

"Stay Lyanna," he coaxed, not caring how pathetic he sounded. He pushed his breeches down his hips, face still pressed against her neck. Her smell, Lyanna's smell: he could suffocate in it and die content.

"Niklaus…"

His tongue swirled around her nipple, fingers holding on firmly to her hip before he entered her, roughly exhaling, out of relief.

"Niklaus…" she had to ask now, while she still had some inkling of feeling. Lyanna had to know before the last bit of emotion left her completely unfazed and uncaring.

Lips against her cheek, his hands slid aggressively onto the small of her back, bringing her closer- always closer. All he wanted was to be closer.

"Yes?"

"Do you… do love me, Nik?"

He stopped, looking up at her. Nostalgia rushing over him so quickly, he thought he'd drown. The hunters, this is how they hunted. Cutting too close and when he least expected it.

 _Hannah, Hannah,_ her name rushed through his mind, as did her words, Hannah's question,  _Do you love me, Niklaus?_

He had lied to Hannah and told her yes. Not worrying of the consequences. Now he worried too deeply about the truth, to be honest. All the things he'd said to Elijah, how he'd chastised him for caring about Katerina and Lyanna.

 _We do not love,_ he had told him.

 _We did once,_ Elijah had replied. And he was right, they had and Tatia was too many lifetimes ago to matter. He could sense the truth and feared it, instead criticizing Elijah and denying it himself. But the rejection of realities wouldn't make them any less true, no matter how much he wished differently.

He loved Lyanna. Even if he couldn't admit it (even to himself), he knew it.

"Will you stay?" he replied, responding to her with a question- avoiding hers all together. It was answer enough for Lyanna, one she was sure she already knew.

"Yes," she lied in return. Kissing her again, he continued his movement- bringing his hand down between their bodies, rubbing her, trying to give the same pleasure he found so easily. Life, Lyanna was soft, warm and alive. Blood thumped through her veins, heat intensifying the smell of her skin. He'd miss this, the living part of her, but wasn't the trade worth so much more? He could have this for as long as he liked. Moments like they'd shared in London, what they had now, Niklaus murmured words of appreciation, adoration, to Lyanna realizing that he'd have her forever.

His hands prickled her skin, cold as ice and urgent, rushing through the movements then slowing in his exaggerated effort to make this seem more intimate than what was- a fuck. Every movement, that before would have sent her reeling, now seemed so calculated, mechanical. Each adjective, meant to compliment, that dripped from his lips, fell flat on her rapidly deafening ears. They were just empty words, that didn't matter because they weren't the rights ones: confessions of the truth, an apology or  _I love you._ They were just things being said: hollow promises reverberating off cold walls.

When they'd finished, he stepped back from between her thighs, kissing her again briefly, pushing hair from her face, feeling as though he'd connected with someone, in a way that he hadn't in centuries with anyone else other than her.  _Soon Lyanna,_ He thought. Soon they would have forever and maybe someday he'd feel like he was ready to tell her the truth.

"Come," he requested, reaching for her. "Let me take you to bed."

It was well past dark, two hours before midnight. Niklaus suspected Kol was off brooding or feeding. Elijah had retired to his own quarters. And even if he hadn't it wouldn't have mattered to Lyanna then. Why bother lying any longer or pretending? Not even hours from now it would all be over.

Leading her to his rooms, he stripped her from behind. Kissing each inch of skin that was exposed. He wanted desperately to tell her all the plans he had made for them, whisper to her all the places he'd take her and things she'd see now that she was no longer tied to this place.

Moving in front of Lyanna, he'd already removed his boots and tunic, tugging at his breeches. Tossing them on the ground he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here, Lyanna."

She wanted to hesitate. Everything in her screamed that it was wrong. Soon over or not, she should keep what little self-respect she had left to salvage and deny him. But what was the point? Hadn't she warned him this is what she feared, told him this is what would happen?

_Men ask for trust, implicitly then betray it without apology. They take what they want and when they are done they do not care the ruin they leave behind._

Her skin crawled from his touch, as Lyanna tried to stop herself from flinching as she allowed him to guide her down onto the bed. A bed he'd taken Katerina in, at some point during his elaborate game and likely many other women. They were all pieces, wooden figures to be pushed and manipulated around a board at Niklaus's leisure.

How could she have ever thought that this would work?

He trailed wet, hot kisses down her chest, nipping at her breasts, blowing on her nipples. She laid there while he did all the things that he thought she wanted and applied the appropriate responses when it was needed, playing along in this elaborate rouse, giving him the performance he sought.

Afterward, he curled up behind her, hesitating for a moment before kissing her shoulder, waiting long minutes before finally feeling ready to bring her closer, in an attempt to be intimate with someone. All of it was new to him and extremely uncomfortable, things that he'd long forgotten since his human days but part him wished to remember.

As he finally drifted to sleep, thinking about what the next few centuries would bring; Lyanna cried a few short, quiet tears. Mostly because she'd been able to hold them in until then, too worried about Katerina and Lilly for self pity but when she was left with her own thoughts, suffocating in lies, she couldn't help herself.

When she was sure he'd fallen asleep, she slipped out from beneath his arm. Gathering her dress on the floor, she pulled it on and quietly headed for the door. Hand on the handle she looked back at him, lingering for just a moment longer- pretending in her mind that what they had shared was real.

But it never was and there was no sense holding on to a reality that had never been.

* * *

There was a pounding, but it wasn't what had woken him. He had heard the footsteps before the servant had made it to the door.

"Milord, Milord!"

He sat up, looking over at the empty cold sheets next to him. She was gone. He was aware that she had gotten up, but he'd figured that mayhaps it was for a human moment, to use the chamber pot or mayhaps her mouth was dry. At some point he'd drifted off to sleep, thinking she'd come back.

Climbing out of bed, he tugged on his breeches as he hollered for whomever it was that was disturbing him to come in. When the door flew open, an elderly servant looked down at the boy who rushed inside.

"They are here! They're here, Milord."

"Who? What are you speaking of?" Niklaus questioned, annoyed at the boy's sudden outburst.

"The men, they came from the woods. There are dozens of them, Milord. I came as soon as I could," Simon panted.

 _The wolves, Lyanna and his doppelganger_ … he thought. Brushing past, moving down the hall to find Elijah, he stopped when the boy trailed behind, yelling, "I tried to stop them, Milord. They wouldn't listen."

"Tried to stop whom? The wolves?"

"No, Milord," the boy looked as if he'd cry from fear, "Lady Katerina, she left the house, Milord. I tried to stop her, tell her she shouldn't leave but then the men came…."

Grabbing the boy by the scruff of his shirt he questioned, "What do you mean she left?"

"They ran, Milord, right after Lady Lockwood came back. They didn'ts know I could hear, you see. But Lady Katerina, she took somethin' from her. I couldn't see what it was, I was hiding in the window coverings- they was thick coverings-"

"Yes, out with it boy!" Niklaus bellowed.

"She took some thin' from her, Lady Katerina, she was crying Milord, and then she was gone."

"Who are they? Where did she go?"

"It was dark Milord, I couldn't see but there was someone with her- the woods, I think."

Dropping the boy, he burst into Elijah's room. "What have you done?!"

Elijah sat book in hand, looking up at Klaus confused, "I don't understand."

"Katerina is gone, she has fled."

Rising quickly from his seat, Elijah answered, "No…"

 _Lyanna,_ his mind jumped immediately towards Lyanna. She'd seemed so distant at dinner, he could tell from the look on her face, the listlessness of her conversation and fake smiles. The woman that had come for all Hallow's Eve dinner wasn't Lyanna, not his Lyanna.

He should have known.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her nothing." He'd thought of saying something a thousand times. He'd considered running with her, more times than he could count. But Elijah was nothing if not a man of resolve and loyalty. He'd promised Klaus that he'd aide him breaking the curse and he'd resolved that allowing Lyanna to die was the kindest fate possible.

Klaus lunged forward grabbing Elijah quickly, slamming him against the wall by the fire, "DO NOT LIE TO ME!" he screamed, black veins of umbrage crawling down his cheeks as his fangs descended.

Calmly Elijah replied, "I will find her," images of Lyanna and Katerina running through the woods scared, hand in hand, yellow eyes watching their every move, filtered through his mind, "You have my word."

 _Katerina_... sweet, complicated Katerina, she'd soon be dead.

"If you do not, I give you my word, you will be dead," Niklaus threatened, seething with hatred.

Standing in the doorway slipping his tunic over his head, Kol scoped the scene of contention playing out before him, "What is this?"

"My doppelganger has run off and the wolves are descending on the Lockwoods," Niklaus snapped.

Immediately Kol stiffened, his mind going to Lilly.

_Lilly, Lilly, what would happen to Lilly? He had to get to Lilly._

But he couldn't say a thing about it, except, "What should we do?"

Looking to Elijah menacingly, Niklaus barked, "You two go. Now. I want her found!"

With the seriousness of the situation settling in, Kol questioned, "What about the wolves?"

"I will handle the wolves. Get the doppelganger and whomever it is that she ran with. I want that person alive."

Kol hesitated, unwilling to look for the doppelganger with the image of Lilly being raped and torn to shreds replaying in his mind.

He had to get to Lilly.

"I will go with you. You cannot take on the wolves by yourself."

Niklaus stopped pacing a suspicious look passing over his face, "Was it you then? Did you do this? Why so suddenly concerned for the Lockwoods? Did you do it for her, that girl?"

In a fit of madness anyone within his view was a possible culprit.

"No, of course not," Kol bristled, trying to immediately hide his concern. "I only thought, the wolves would be more entertaining than tracking down one little girl."

Turning on him in a matter of seconds, Niklaus breathed hot in Kol's face, "That little girl is the key to your safety. Find her."

Watching Niklaus take out the brunt of his frustration, helped calm Elijah further- distracting him from the things that were likely happening as they spoke. The wolves, tearing up Greyshaw Manor- Lyanna being ripped limb from limb.

 _She was bound to die anyhow,_ he reassured himself, trying as he'd been all week to disassociate himself from her and his involvement in her death.  _It is for the best,_ he'd promise himself now and for centuries to come, no matter how untrue it felt, how much his instincts disagreed with his logic.

"Kol," grabbing his brother, Elijah urged him out the door and down the hall with him. They had to find Katerina. If nothing else could be salvaged, if Lyanna could not be saved, then at least this act would be completed. They would find Katerina and his brother would break the curse. He had to prove to Niklaus that it wasn't him, that he wouldn't betray him even though everything in him wished he could. There had to be a reason why all of this had happened. There had to be purpose in Lyanna's death.

As they left, leaving through the servants' quarters which laid adjacent to the closest path to the Lockwood lands, Niklaus paused. Who told Katerina, someone who knew about the curse? If it wasn't Elijah or Kol, it could only be Trevor or Ines.

Bursting out into the hall, the boy stood waiting for him.

"Who told Lady Lockwood?"

The boy moved against the wall, shirking under Niklaus's intense gaze.

"It was a woman Milord. Lady Lockwood told Miss Katerina a witch had told her."

"A witch?" his mind went to Ines immediately, how she had interrupted his previous conversation with Lyanna only to give him useless information. Brushing the boy aside as if he were a piece of refuse, he stalked down the halls, moving into the bowels of Harte Manor where they'd housed her. He should have had her under lock and key. Niklaus should have known: never trust a witch. The old woman would kill her own children just to get the best of him.

When he burst through her doors ready to rip her head from her body, he found that he was too late. Feet dangling in the air, Ines had hung herself, sheet tied around the cross beam that ran centre in the room.

He yanked at her foot, a sick popping noise echoing in the room as he dislocated her hip from the joint. The old hag had crossed him and for her idiocy her children would writhe in agony. Niklaus was nothing if not consistent in upholding his threats.

He had half an inclination to yank her body down, and rip it limb from limb in a fit of rage when the thought of the wolves passed through his mind and the boy's observation,  _She took somethin'._

If Ines had told Lyanna, if Katerina was to run, why hadn't she earlier? If it was Lyanna that had told her the truth, if she knew-  _Lyanna- oh Lyanna,_ then why had she stayed with him? Why did she pretend for him, linger, if she knew the truth all along?

Connecting the pieces immediately, he forgot about Ines all together as it hit him like a ton of bricks: his room, the room where he painted, his study, why had she been in there?

The moonstone.

Ascending up sets of stairs, flying down the halls, sketches scattered and fell to the ground from the force of his entrance. Tossing books, brushes, pieces of charcoal from the desk, he dug into the drawer, ripping at the false wood that concealed the bottom compartment.

It was there: the moonstone. He breathed a sigh of relief. Picking it up to examine it, he decided to keep it on his person. He should have had it with him this entire time. Fingers brushed over the back, hitting an anomaly he'd never felt before.

Turning it in the light, he saw it: a bright yellow, thin line, defacing the dorsal side. It was not his moonstone. It was Lyanna's fake.

Everything clicking together in sasync order: all along, she'd known.

Enraged, he threw the fake, hard enough that a corner of it burst and shattered into smaller sedimentary pieces as it ricocheted off the stone walls.

His doppelganger was missing, his stone was gone and the wolves were descending upon Greyshaw. Likely to rip Lyanna into shreds….

At that point, it wasn't fear for her well-being that drove him to rush from Harte Manor, sending him barrelling over the moors towards the Lockwood lands, it was fury. If anyone was going to torture and kill Lyanna, it would be him.

Death by wolves would be too painless, too simple and too quick. No question about it, Lyanna would live and for centuries she would regret every moment that she had thought to cross him.

* * *

Snow crunched underfoot. People she'd loved and had known her entire life ran from Greyshaw Manor in terror. Women with their night dresses torn, men carrying what few belongings they could grab, their feet making haunted prints across the grounds.

They looked back at the old Manor, still lit this late in the night, tears in their eyes as they searched for their family, friends and those they knew. Confused, they cried out to one another or no one at all. Their lives just as disturbed as Lyanna's.

She watched them slink from the forest, like creatures of a snowy fog, eyes gleaming with the prospect of the hunt and the knowledge of victory, Arthur leading the way. They moved onto the grounds like any pack would, in great number, clustering together, looking for signs of a threat, an attack and when they found none they fanned out. Pointing to every viewable entrance, Arthur ordered, "No one leaves untouched, find that stone. And the Lady, Lyanna Lockwood, she is mine." Men moved towards every entrance, smashing windows and granting themselves access where there were no doors.

Arthur would find the reward he sought. The pack would get their freedom and it would be Lyanna who would give it to them, just not the way they had intended. Arthur wouldn't be finding her. Lyanna would find him, in hell.

Standing in the darkness of the stables she looked out into the chaos that ensued and regretted, in part, not giving warning ahead of time. But she couldn't, she did not know anymore who was friend or foe in that great house.

For a few brief moments she thought of Lilly turning towards her, tears streaming down her face as she rode away in that rickety wagon, Elspeth by her side. Perhaps someday they'd both forgive her for lying. They'd understand that she had to do it, that there was no other way.

And Katerina, how her hands had shook as Lyanna placed the stone against her palm.

" _Guard it with your life, Katerina. Promise me."_

" _I promise," her fingers wrapped around the opaque rock._

" _I want you to keep running. Don't look back. Wherever he takes you, whatever he tells you to do, listen." Katerina shook her head in response._

" _Lyanna, what if they find me?" she'd never seen Katerina so unsure. When Lyanna explained everything that she knew, she was careful to exclude Trevor's name, planting Ines's instead, knowing the boy to be listening as she and Trevor had planned. Even then however, as she exposed the Mikaelsons' lies, the truth about Katerina's identity, the curse, the doppelganger's expression seemed undaunted. But when she held the stone in her hands, promising Lyanna that she'd run and never look back, it was then that Lyanna could tell that Katerina was terrified, the shock wearing off._

" _They will not, I promise you that. You will leave here tonight and you will never return to this place, Katerina, no matter what. You understand?"_

" _And you, what will happen to you, Lyanna?" Tears for the first time formed in Katerina's eyes as she realized the full gravity of the situation. Lilly was gone, she'd never see her again and Lyanna was soon to meet her own fate._

" _I'll be fine, Kat," she lied, again, "Ines has a plan for me."_

" _Will I see you again?" Lilly and Lyanna were all Katerina had left in the world. Her family had abandoned her, casting her from their home, her own child, her daughter had been taken from her and was now long gone. Without Lilly, Lyanna and this place, all the hopes she'd made here of having a new life, Elijah- what would she do? Who would Katerina Petrova be now?_

" _Of course, Love."_

" _How?" The doppelganger looked up at the hunter, her protector, wholly unaware of just how connected they were and always would be._

" _I will find a way, I promise you," Lyanna answered, knowing it to be a lie but feeling somehow that it wasn't. Although she knew she would never leave Greyshaw Manor again, still she felt as if she'd see Katerina once more._

_Pulling her close, burying her face in Kat's hair, fingers clutching the fabric of Katerina's dress, Lyanna hugged her dear friend for the last time, whispering, "Promise me you will always protect yourself no matter what."_

" _I promise."_

_Releasing her, she kissed her friend goodbye, "I love you, Katerina. I'll see you again. Now go..."_

_Katerina had tears streaming down her face as she turned reluctantly from Lyanna, leaving the sitting room but not before she answered, "I love you too, Lyanna," meaning it wholeheartedly, Lyanna was more a sister to her, both her and Lilly, than her own._

Screams sounded throughout the night, as men slaughtered and abused those who were once in Lyanna's service. She looked resignedly at the grounds, the forest, the moors in the distance and finally to the house itself. Ghostly images of her younger self ran past in the dark, chased by Nathaniel or holding Lilly's hand as they walked into the woods. They kissed Elspeth's forehead as the elderly woman looked up at her, tea cup in hand and a look of motherly adoration. Katerina was side by side with her in the garden, telling tales of Trevor and the men who sought her favour.

This was home. It would always be home for her. Lyanna's life began here and it would end here as well. Her arms prickled from the chill, without a shawl she shivered a little as she lit her torch.

It was time. They had suffered enough, she had suffered enough.

 _Through me you pass into the city of woe_  
Through me you pass into eternal pain  
Through me among the people lost for aye

_Eternal, and eternal I shall endure.  
All hope abandon, ye who enter here…._

Lyanna knew not what happened after a person died. Mayhaps there was an afterlife, good and evil beyond the world she already knew and perhaps not. But if there was a heaven, she could only hope it was this place as she once remembered it.

* * *

By the time Niklaus stepped onto the property all hell had broken loose. Servants ran from the house and grounds screaming. The noise of the racket within was hideous; the wolves were turning the property upside down to find the moonstone.

She was most likely inside, one of the cries he was hearing at that very moment, as they beat her senseless, violated her, sought any means possible to get what they'd come for. Even in his fit of rage, part of him was horrified at the thought: Lyanna lying on the ground, clothing torn, and face bloodied as one of those disgusting men pawed at her.

All of this over a lie, a fictitious curse and now its fake stone, one he'd started centuries ago, never imagining he'd meet its bitter consequence.

The ground, covered in light snow, had the watered down scent of Vervain and Wolfsbane, as if it had been seeded and fertilized with both herbs.

Where had she found either? They had destroyed the crops. He'd seen her dispose of every last oil, wine and plant of Wolfsbane, on the property. Another lie, another fallacy he'd believed.

Deceit, how could she have fooled him so soundly? Was he so blinded with a brief glimpse of happiness that he'd missed what was there all along? Did she laugh at him in her private moments, knowing how foolishly he'd fallen for every word and every act?

Katerina was somewhere as they spoke, running through the forests attempting to hide, the moonstone with her. His plan was falling apart at the seams, 500 years of work being pissed into the wind in a matter of minutes.

He could feel his fangs descend, ready to rip apart the next person who crossed his path. Then, everything seemed possible, his mind racketing up the number of hideous crimes she'd committed against him, with malice- he was sure of it. As quick as he thought he was, Lyanna was always- always quicker. He hated her for that brief moment and somewhere- deep inside, maybe loved her all that much more. A worthy adversary she was and would have always been.

_The finest wine can only come from the poisoned vine._

Pushing through the crowd of those fleeing in panic, he heard his name.

"Niklaus…" carried over the cries, blowing in the wind. She stood by the south entrance; torch in hand, the flame flickering in the consistent breeze.

It must have been over twenty yards, but he could see her as if he was only feet away. Like she had been waiting for him all along- knew he was coming and had stood, quiet and patient. Dress blowing in the wind, strands of hair whipping past her face. So calm, halcyon as the world crumbled around her.

"Niklaus," she called again, this time less loud, knowing he could hear.

He stopped dead in his tracks, watching her as she watched him. Every thought he had of torturing her, seeking revenge for her deception left his consciousness immediately. He would spend the next 500 years wishing that he had said something then, come up with anything that could have changed her mind- stopped her. But the words got caught between his mind and mouth.

Hatred was pushed from his forethoughts, plans of revenge and torture, getting his doppelganger, making Lyanna pay. They were all plans that included a future. The promise that wrongs could still be righted. But amongst the complete chaos, in what lasted less than seconds, he knew he'd never get that chance.

She was the woman from his dream, his drawing...

Words, stuck in his mouth from horror, understanding what she intended to do. Reserved, beautiful and terrifying in her assurance, she smiled, her small, warm smile and answered every nightmare that was running through his mind.

Simple, direct and cutting as always, she called out, "Goodbye, Love…" moments passing between them, the air filled with screams of death but Niklaus felt as if they were both were lost in a world of complete silence, he and Lyanna the only inhabitants.

"No…" in shock, it came out as only a whisper but it sounded like a scream, only Lyanna refused to hear it as she held his gaze seconds longer finishing, "You've won..." before dropping her torch.

The grounds exploded with the smell of Wolfsbane and Vervain, the people of the house shrieking, running from the flames, further away from the Manor and its immediate grounds. Searing his skin as it lit up the yard, the oil burned on top of the snow, igniting inside the stone walls of the large compound. Hollering, cries of agony were heard from inside as those who were within began to burn, suffocate or were poisoned.

Niklaus felt as if he wre trying move, his mind yelling at his body to propel himself forward but his limbs weren't receiving the message. Lyanna took one step towards the house before she hesitated, her head turning as if to look back, giving him one more second as Niklaus screamed out, "NO!" rushing forward. But he was too late, as she continued ahead, entering the manor.

The whole property went up in smoke, his skin melting from his face, life burning out of Lyanna's body. It didn't matter how fast he was, fire scratched away the outer layer of muscle on his legs; he was too late. The whole compound was aflame before he could reach the south exit. Wherever she was inside, Lyanna had died within moments of entering her home.

Every nerve ending in his body fired at expert speed, eliciting a type of physical pain he'd never experienced before and never would again. Vanquished, in a matter of minutes, he'd had the whole world at his fingertips, just for it to be ripped away in the blink of an eye.

The doppelganger was gone, taking the moonstone with her. Elijah after five hundred years, betraying him without a moment's thought for another Petrova. And Lyanna… oh God, Lyanna… the only thing Niklaus had loved in 500 years. The only thing that gave all of  _this_ meaning, besides breaking the curse… gone.

Lies, a complicated web he'd weaved with every confidence that it wouldn't be in vain. They were collecting now, in the periphery of his mind, stacking up like bricks, walling him into a tunnel that led here.

On the ground, rocks digging into the severed flesh of his knees, cutting into the burned wounds of his hands and arms, Niklaus Mikaelson watched his life go up in smoke with a blank look on his face, the smell of burnt flesh lingering, simmering in the air.

Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe (although there was no need), the Vervain licking at the lining of his throat. He tried to think of something- hold on to anything as he felt himself slipping. Fire burned and cut through his skin that quickly healed itself, a continual, excruciating process that perpetuated as he refused to move, alone while everyone else was fleeing.

_Will you leave me, Niklaus?_

_Losing him in the rows of plants, she called out to him in his dream._

No, he wouldn't leave her. She'd left him. Abandoned, they always left without his permission.

All he could see was her face, black snowflakes falling from the sky into her hair and that look she'd given him so many times, that used to give him peace but now would haunt him: Lucifer- giving light and taking it away just as quickly.

He didn't even realize it but for the first time since he could remember, even since he was human, he cried. Like a pathetic, weak, disgusting child, salty tears of failure rushed down his cheeks, dripping onto the dirt and rock, making mud.

 _You won…_ she'd said to him _._ He looked to the Manor on fire and knew he'd lost long before he ever arrived at this moment. Whatever game he thought he was playing with her, Lyanna had out manoeuvred him. Moreover,  _He_  had won, the God that the humans prayed to like fools; when scared and running from death and meaninglessness, had beaten him. If  _He_  existed and hated evil as they claimed, as Klaus knew he was, God had won.

Like a fragile human, desperate and lost, the words fell from his mouth, pleading, before he could register their content and the defeat in their meaning, "Let me die, God. If this is eternity, let it be done."

There was no one in the world to watch those moments of pure unadulterated weakness slip from him. Vision blurring from the smoke, tears and fire, he wished ardently that if there was God, that God would hear him.  _He'd_  be merciful, as they had promised _he_  was and even though both  _he_  and Niklaus knew Niklaus was evil and undeserving of mercy,  _God would_  reconsider that one time and spare him life.

" _There will come a time… when you wish to die,"_ Hannah had told him, " _And you'll pray to the God that you deny and hear only silence."_

* * *

Before Kol and Elijah could even make it to the woods, Trevor was calling to them from the road.

"Can you smell them?" he yelled, "They are everywhere tonight." The wolves- the reek of them filtering through the trees was almost too much to bear.

"Yes and why are you out so close to a full moon?" Elijah questioned suspiciously.

"The boy, he informed me Katerina has fled."

"Yes, she has and with a man apparently," Elijah continued, watching Trevor for signs of hesitation.

"Simon informed me; Rose and I have questioned those that work in the manor and they claim that the man is Jon the stable master."

"And where has he gone?" Kol questioned, trying to quickly get to the answer Elijah wanted. The sooner they found Katerina the sooner he'd be able to get to Lilly.

"The village, on the road, he has taken a wagon."

Elijah seemed unconvinced, "And why would they travel by road, when it would be so obvious and not into the woods?"

"Would the woods not be obvious? Wolves out on a night like tonight. No vampire, perhaps not even an original would dare to enter."

It was clear to Kol that Trevor was hiding something. Whatever it was Kol was surely going to find out, for every second he wasted was one less Kol was spending finding Lilly. He was about to lunge at the younger vampire, use brute strength to literally wring it out of him when Trevor interrupted, "Perhaps we should check both? Try out both theories? Lord Kol, you take the road and Lord Elijah and I will fan out into the woods."

There was something not quite right about the way he mentioned Kol following the road- a look that he gave him. And suddenly it made sense; if Katerina fled then Lilly would have as well. Lyanna must have known, Lilly must have told her of his plans to meet her in that next morning, the dots quickly connecting for both women.

Ines didn't tell Lyanna about Katerina and the curse, it was Trevor. Kol's first inclination was to blurt out his revelation but quickly he quelled his tongue. Trevor had helped Katerina escape and likely Lilly as well. He must have known that he would be a suspect. He was offering a trade with Kol, Lilly's life for Kol's cooperation.

"Yes, I'll take the road and you both check the woods," Kol agreed, after only a few seconds of delay. Elijah still seemingly unconvinced was about to open his mouth when Kol continued, cutting him off, "I will send men from the manor, a group to find Katerina. She will not last long if she is the woods and there are only so many places to hide in the village."

Countered with a reassuring nod, Elijah buckled in his resolve, "As many men as you find Kol, send them immediately."

Agreeing the brothers parted, Trevor and Elijah into the woods and Kol to the road to find Lilly. By the time Greyshaw Manor was set ablaze Elijah and Trevor were deep into the woods, tracking dead end trails set by Rose, Kol nowhere in sight.

It took him less than a minute upon arriving in the village to guess where Lilly would have gone. If it were not common sense that had led him to the abbey it would have been the familiar wagon tucked along the side of the stone structure. In seconds he was bursting through the front doors, yelling out her name.

Rushing down the long corridor from the confessional, Father Hall tried to stall him from entering the sanctuary, "She is not here Lord Mikaelson."

Brushing him off as if he were a fly, the elderly man bounced against the sanctuary doors. Quickly recovering, Father Hall was hot on Kol's heels.

"She is not here; Lord Mikaelson and I will remind you that this is a holy place."

"She is here and I will find her, old man!" Kol shot back, his voice echoing across the large room.

Father Hall need not bother saying another word for as soon as Kol saw Elspeth, it was clear that his suspicions were correct.

"Where is she?" he bellowed, the old witch smiling as Kol stepped forward and hit an invisible wall.

"Careful Lord Mikaelson," she chided, enjoying her supremacy as Kol pushed against the barrier with no success.

"Where is she?"

"Here and stop yelling, you are in a sacred place," Lilly corrected, stepping into view. He was taken back for a moment when he saw her dressed in a tunic and breeches, hair cut so short she looked like a kitchen boy. He could tell from her tensed position that it wasn't just rage and betrayal that had her seething. Her irises flickered brown to yellow and then black. This close to the full moon, the mere smell of him was enough to make her skin crawl.

"Lilly are you alright?" he questioned looking at both Father Hall and Elspeth as if they might be holding her here against her will.

"Am I alright?" she mocked. Slowly walking to the barrier between them, her eyes snapped shut as black veins protruded from her skin, crawling down her neck as the beast fought against her will to come out, "You tried to kill my family. You plotted to murder Katerina… you were going to let your brother sacrifice me!" her head snapped back, incisors descending as rage took over her body.

"Lilly…" Elspeth called to her, soothing her with either her voice or magic, Kol was unsure. One thing he did know was that Elspeth wasn't nearly as powerful as Ines or many of the other witches he'd encountered in his 500 years. The barrier between him and Lilly was weakening by moment.

"No," she snapped.

This was not the type of conversation he wished to have in front of an audience and it certainly was not the time for this discussion. He only had a limited amount before he needed to head back, before Elijah would become suspicious.

"Lilly we have not the time for this, you need to leave."

"And you think I would trust you?" she shot back, "After all you have done? After all of your lies!" her words echoed throughout the sanctuary with her fury.

Desperate, Kol knew if he let her, Lilly was stubborn enough to wait here and be caught. She was angry enough to argue with him just long enough that either Klaus or Elijah would become too suspicious and then she'd miss her window.

"Lilly I might have lied in the beginning and yes I didn't tell you about Katerina or Lyanna but what would you have me say? He is my brother, as you would die for Lyanna…" he trailed off but his sentiments clear. As Lilly held loyalties to her family, Kol must to his, no matter how perverse Klaus's plan.

No matter how valid his reasons it didn't help to sway her resolve of disgust and hatred. Kol had never fully thought out how he would handle this matter with Lilly if they had run. How would he have explained to her that Katerina and Lyanna had to die? Their deaths were worth her agony because they would be the key to her survival. The curse broken and the doppelganger dead, Lady Lockwood whom seemed to be a constant source of irritation for Klaus- their blood on his hands would be enough. It would satiate his brother enough that he wouldn't need to seek Lilly's death as well.

He'd never considered failure in his plan or rather he had but he'd pushed it from his forethoughts. Knowing that he'd spend likely a century or maybe more without the Lilly he knew. He'd be forced to follow behind her, like a pathetic dog waiting for her forgiveness.

"But it wasn't all a lie, not all of it." The barrier had weakened enough that if he wished he could have stepped forward but Kol knew that proximity was not the answer to his problems at the moment. It was best for Lilly to think he was trapped, allowing her the illusion of security and perhaps calming her for the moment.

"Lilly I would have never let you die. We were going to run…" he looked at both Elspeth and Father Hall whom were both unashamedly listening.

"How do I know that wasn't a trap?" she fired back.

"If it was a trap, if I wanted you dead, I would have left you to Klaus. I would've let Elijah come find you."

"There's still time," she snapped, clearly unwilling to hear a word he was saying.

"Yes, there is, there is still time for you to escape."

Lilly stood unconvinced, until Kol stepped forward past the barrier, "Lilly if you think I am lying, that I am here to harm you and Elspeth, then bite me." Although her venom surely wouldn't kill him, it would be enough to significantly slow Kol down for a period of time, weakening him.

Her eyes flickered yellow as he neared, her natural instincts clearly enjoying the thought of her venom burning through his veins as he grimaced in discomfort.

"Lilly you have no choice. If I am lying than you are dead regardless but if I am telling the truth, every moment you waste arguing with me you put both your, Elspeth's and the Father's life in danger."

The mention of both innocent parties had its desired effect, as Lilly glanced at both of her silent partners.

"Lilly," he grabbed her, the muscles of her forearm coiling under his grip but he caught her attention just long enough for her to make eye contact. Taking his three second window Kol hoped to every God, discovered, written or not, that Lilly wasn't on Vervain, that she'd stopped taking it these past two weeks because she trusted him.

"Go…" he compelled, her pupils dilating for moment, her face tensing as though she were trying to fight it but ultimately couldn't.

"Okay," she answered.

"Miss Lilly," Elspeth warned.

"No," she answered, turning to the old woman, "He's right. We are dead regardless and if he wish to kill me or you, he would have already."

A wave a relief flooded over Kol, as a reluctant Elspeth gathered what few belongings they had. Knowing he had only minutes left before he'd have to leave, Kol grabbed Lilly, desperately, "Travel north."

"No, Lyanna said to go south that she would meet us-"Lilly stopped, still unsure how much to divulge.

"Go north first, for the first few days. Klaus will not follow you north, not into the clans, there are too many wolves. His first focus will be the doppelganger." He knew not whether she'd follow his instruction or not as Elspeth waited at the door.

"Lilly, if we are to go, then we must go," the old woman urged.

Obliging, she stepped forward, when Kol tightened his grip on her arm. This was his last chance, it may be the last time he ever saw her. If Klaus thought for a moment he was lying, if he didn't believe Kol's story, he knew he'd end up like Finn, daggered in a box. If and when he was ever undaggered Lilly would likely be long dead.

"Go north Lilly."

She looked down at his vice grip, wrapping her hand around his, leaning close. For a moment he thought she might kiss him. That at the very least he'd get that. It was all happening too quickly, conversations that should have been battles for hours, plans that needed a more decisive structure, things that needed to be said, they were all slipping from him. There wasn't enough time to do this properly. But if nothing else, he'd get one last kiss- moment with her.

When he felt her fangs sink into his neck and the poison of her venom drip into his veins he knew he was wrong. Clutching the growing black area of decay where she'd bit him, he was forced to release her, "Kol," she answered coldly.

He was in shock but he didn't know why. Wasn't this what he'd suggested? Wasn't it fair after everything he'd done? "This isn't the end, Lilly…" he hesitated, a quick sweat breaking out across his forehead, as he felt his strength bleeding away while the venom circulated throughout his system. There were a million thoughts running through his mind at once. The look of pure hatred, betrayal, which she was giving him, paired with the gross discomfort that he felt was enough to make him want to vomit.

"I'll find you, I promise." Even if it was only as a headstone someday, he meant it.

"Don't," she replied, sparing him a moment's glance before she turned, going to Elspeth.

If he were honest with himself, there were a million other things he wished he would have said, dozens of other confessions. More than anything he wanted for her to say goodbye or even look back before she left, but Lilly did neither. Like they were complete strangers she walked out of the abbey, Elspeth at her side, as if she'd forever closed the book on her and Kol.

She'd said forever but forever seemed to be a considerably less serious commitment to wolves than Original vampires. Lilly might never want him again but Kol had made her a promise, even if it wasn't verbalized.

_Where you go, I'll go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be mine and when you die, I will die._ _And there I will be buried._

* * *

He reeked of charred flesh and death. In the early hours of morning the sun peaked over the horizon, light dancing over the smouldering remains of Greyshaw Manor. A light snow had fallen sometime in the night but Niklaus hadn't even noticed. Bodies were sprawled out across the grounds, their throats ripped out, some of them decapitated but most of them drained. Whomever was foolish enough to not flee the scene found a bitter painful end when Niklaus recovered, pulling himself from the ground. The thoughts of defeat that had consumed him in moments previous were quickly replaced with the empty euphoria of blood rushing past his fangs, bodies going limp as he leeched life from their curious eyes. There were twenty perhaps thirty that laid scattered, their corpses mutilated in various ways. After the first five, he'd been satiated; he'd killed the remaining dozens for pure sport. It was the thrill of watching them run, then crushing their bones under his hands, the terrified look on their faces, eliciting a satisfied smirk from his.

As they fell, gurgling on their own blood and smoke from the fire, Niklaus stripped the closest male victim of his tunic and breeches, discarding his that hung in shreds from his body. He'd half expected Kol and Elijah to eventually appear, slinking from the woods with words of contrition spilling from their mouths, promises that Katerina would be found. Although by now they knew as well as he, that she was long gone. Fortunately for Niklaus and perhaps them, the sheep of his flock stayed at bay, preparing for his wrath when he returned.

It wouldn't be long until he dealt with his brothers' failings but not yet. There was something left that he had yet to do. Piling the victims on top of one another, he walked to into the smouldering ruins of the great home finding a leg of a broken chair. Stoking what small flame he could find, that had yet to burn out he lit his torch and returned to the bodies, burning the evidence.

It wouldn't be long until others would come, the smell of smoke, blood and death hanging heavy in the air. If he didn't move soon, he'd be too late. Flames licked over ashen skin, searing flesh. The heap of decay went up in a blaze as Niklaus looked to the south entrance of the destroyed home, the image of Lyanna flicking through his mind.

He considered turning then and walking away, abandoning it all and never looking back. But he couldn't leave her like that, as just another body that would soon be dust, mingling among the remains of those she hated: the wolves and Arthur.

Approaching the door through which she'd walked, he could see her eyes as she called out her last words to him,  **" _Goodbye love_ ,"** replaced by the image of her flesh smouldering like the peasants he'd burned seconds before. Niklaus tried to think anything but muscle and her beautiful white skin falling from the bone, her rosewater hair curling into black ash against her skull.

Moving inside, he immediately became aware of every place he stepped. The ground was littered with debris and black ash, pieces of clothing attached to charred bodies covered with a thin blanket of snow, as if the white flakes could dissolve the ruin below.

She could have been anywhere. Lyanna could be only feet inside, her remains lying at the door, part of the black dust that stuck to his boots. He looked down at his first corpse, toeing the remains of what looked like a skull. Hands shaking, he clenched them at his sides as his foot shifted through the remains, looking for some sign of Lyanna. When he found patches of skin preserved with coarse black hair protruding from the pores, he breathed a sigh of relief.

_It wasn't her._

Niklaus carefully pieced through the ash and fragmented skeletons for close to an hour when he was ready to give up, sure that he'd never find Lyanna or mayhaps he had but she was so disfigured he'd have no way of knowing.

Pushing hair from his eyes, dirt smudged across his face when he saw it. The light filtering through the shattered windows caught the reflection of something in the ash, refracting yellow and blue light onto the nearest standing wall.

An area that he had yet to search, Niklaus rose slowly, approaching cautiously. He'd been wrong dozens of times before, perhaps this was just another wolf, a serving girl or even a child. Buried under what appeared to be a fallen beam, he pushed the heavy wood away to find a piece of amber poking through a heap of wood ash and broken glass.

"Lyanna?" he whispered, as if she'd answer. Crouching, his fingers closed around the stone, the chain catching on something.

If Niklaus needed to breathe he'd be choking. His hand delved carefully into the rubble, dusting ash away from the only woman he'd loved in five hundred years. Gently he cleared broken glass and wood splinters from her corpse until he was left with nothing but the shadow of someone he was sure he'd see every day until his death. Only the eternity he had imagined spending with Lyanna was much different, so much sweeter than the one he'd been given. Niklaus would have Lyanna forever, in that he wasn't wrong. Except now he'd only have his memories, agonizing in their clarity and bitter in their finality.

Fingers traced the outlines of her cheek bones but then stopped at her eyes which were burned from their sockets.

 ** _Let me show you what love is Niklaus,_** her voice requested, seemingly echoing off the tattered walls as his hand palmed the flat surface of her skull, eyes closing in agony.

Curse her for doing this. What right did she have to go? What right did Lyanna have to leave him alone like this, with this memory, one that would haunt him forever?

In a moment of incapacitating grief, he bent gathering her in his arms, fingers slipping through chard flesh and exposed ribs.

 ** _I'll never regret you, Niklaus,_** he could still feel her mouth warm against his ear.

"Damn you, Lyanna. Damn you to hell," his voice broke, words spewing from his mouth as the bones of her frame broke under his grasp, limbs slipping back into the ash.

"No..." he called out desperately, crazed. The more he tried to collect her, hold on for just a moment longer, the more her skeleton crumbled. Like a man trying to clutch water, she slipped through his arms, hands and fingers, separating into the pieces of the puzzle that was Lyanna, and dust.

He could feel it again, emotion collecting, threatening to fall as tears. He brushed his face against his shoulder trying in a failed effort to stop himself before a drop dribbled down his check, mixing with blood an dirt, making a wet trail before it fell, into her ash.

Niklaus's arms shook from grief but more rage, disgust at his own patheticness.

"Stop!" he called out to no one but himself. He wasn't going to do this, not now or ever again. Trying to collect himself, he gently placed her remains on the ground.

Standing, he brushed himself off before exiting the house, heading towards the stables where he found the old stable master dead inside. Retrieving a shovel he headed into the gardens. They were just as much in ruin as the house, snow covered the blackened earth. Looking to the horizon, his breath fogged in front of his face. If he could feel chill, he'd be shaking as he glanced up at the sky, a light pink it was threatening more snow.

There was only so much time and he didn't want her left there, trapped in that house: a life of lies. Niklaus didn't want Lyanna's body buried in a place where she once laid with her husband in their marriage bed then later where he'd laid in her lap, dead. He'd bury her in the garden, the place that once gave her safety- the place where he'd first fallen in love with her.

_Blond hair whipped in the breezeless morning air, Lyanna's memory staring back at him,_

**_"I ask again, are you mad?"_ **

He'd accused her, that night she burned the garden.

**_"Possibly," she smiled, looking back at the fire._ **

His hands gripped the shovel harder, the cold chill of loss, trickling down his neck, wrapping around his spine, crushing as the fingers of desolation fired out across every nerve ending.

 _Keep digging,_ he ordered himself,  _Keep going, keep moving, stop thinking, stop caring..._

When he'd finally dug down through the frozen ground deep enough that she'd remain undisturbed by animals, he crawled out. Making his way back to the ruins Niklaus knelt, taking his time as he gathered her: every limb, every bone shard and even the dust, nothing would be left behind.

Like a mother carrying her child, Mary cradling Jesus, he held on to Lyanna so tight, held her so close, that when it was all said and done the smell of her, the ash of her lovely hands, the dirt fragments that made up the curve of her spine, the disintegrated particles of her hair- it would meld into the tunic he wore. He'd take with him pieces of Lyanna woven into the cotton.

Crawling into her grave, he placed his Delilah in her final resting place. With care, he arranged what was left of the Lockwood widow, nausea welling in his throat.

He could have had it all: the curse broken, the doppelgangers dead and Lyanna. He could have had Lyanna had he not been such a fool but now he'd have nothing except his crumbling empire of lies: his soul (if he had one) buried six feet under Scrathclyde soil.

His fingers wrapped around the necklace, the one she'd toyed with a thousand times and never removed from the moment he'd given it to her.

**_"Is that love Lyanna- sadness?"_ **

**_"Yes, and agony, bliss and bitter hatred. It is elation and every other spectrum of emotion imaginable."_ **

Selfishly, he unclasped the chain, untangling it from the bony cusps of her exposed vertebra. It was his and then it was hers and Lyanna's it would always be. Cradling the stone in his hands he lifted himself out of her grave, sparing her corpse one last glance before he began filling the hole with dirt.

When it was done, he smoothed out the surface, his hands running over the soil knowing what lay below. On his knees Klaus looked out over the scorched grounds, into the forest, west out onto the moors and then to the house. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes collected into almost another hour as he sat in silence. The sun had fully risen and then fallen behind a cloud, the pink sky dropping fat white flakes.

**" _Do you love me, Niklaus?"_**

How could she even think to ask? Didn't she know...? Every second, he loved Lyanna every single second and was completely unaware and then afraid.

 **" _Do you love me, Niklaus?"_** her voice falling around him, her breath whispering past him.

"Yes..." he finally answered to no one but himself because she'd never know now. Lyanna would never understand. He thought he had forever, Niklaus was promised an eternity, only now he understood what his forever entailed and how he'd spend it.

Alone.

"Damn you, God," he whispered bitterly. It turned out redemption wasn't real: another promise that would go unfulfilled.

He could have stayed there forever, afraid to leave her.

**" _Goodbye love,"_** _her hair whipping in the wind, glowing in the fire._

She was the woman from his dreams. He'd seen her die a dozen times and he'd see it again, a million more. Niklaus would cursed Katerina, his mother, God and even Lyanna but in the end he knew the only one damned was himself.

Finally, rising from the ground, he looked down at her grave one last time,  _Keep moving._

Lyanna,  _his Lyanna,_  was as dead as he. Only now she was free, something Niklaus would never be. Closing his eyes the image of her in the abbey that Sabbath morning, the first time they met, flashed through his mind.

Blue eyes, green veil, soft hands and sharp words: he'd love her long past his own death.

"Goodbye Lyanna..." the words dropping from his mouth like a weak promise as he turned and walked away from her unmarked grave, taking only her necklace and the dust of her bones with him.

_I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods. I am in ecstasy and agony. I am possessed by memories and in exile from myself._

* * *

**Scrathclyde**

**Decemeber 1492 AD**

Dismounting from his horse, he walked through burnt, scarred stone walls, piles of soot and picked over items scattered about randomly. Poking out from a dirty pile, he brushed dirt and ruin from its edges before bending to pick it up.

Round, a yellowish white, it was a piece of human bone, one the church had missed.

"May I be of assistance?"

Turning from his crouched position he found a lowborn looking at him through what may have once been the great entrance of the home.

"Yes," he replied tossing the bone fragment, "What happened here?"

"You must not be from around this area?"

"No," he answered curtly, studying the man. "I am from London, on business of the King."

Immediately bowing his head, the man replied, "Sorry My Lord…."

"Bram."

"My Lord Bram, there have been many people digging through these remains."

"And you would be?"

"Bedell, My Lord. I help keep the grounds up at Harte Manor," motioning up over the hills.

"I see…. Well you can escort me there. That was my original destination."

Moving from the rubble, mounting his horse, Bedell followed.

"What has taken place here?"

"Burnings, My Lord, months past; some men from the village attacked Greyshaw Manor. A fire was started, burning the whole place to the ground."

"And the Lord of this property?"

"Dead, My Lord but a year past. Lady Lockwood perished in the fire, young Lady Lockwood as well."

"Why did these men attack the grounds? Is there no law here?" Mikael knew the story, had been sent by the King himself, but wished to hear it from a local's mouth.

"No one knows, My Lord."

And neither did the King but one thing was sure, Mikael didn't know how or why but somehow Niklaus was involved. Everything that boy touched turned to shit.

When they finally arrived at Harte Manor, Mikael dismounted quickly, entering in haste and on guard.

"You will not find the Lords Mikaelson here, Lord Bram," the man yelled after him. But he was too late. Already moving through the front entrance, into the first sitting room, down the halls, peering into other spaces, Mikael knew he'd missed them.

Furniture was covered in cloth. Every space looking abandoned and covered in dust, cob webs forming. He was so close before. In London he could taste it, bitter as ever now. Again that damn boy had slipped through his fingers.

Picking up a piece of parchment that was left lying on a cloth covered table, he looked down at the sketch of a woman, "When did they leave?"

Bedell looked at the drawing he held in his hand, "We found that My Lord Bram or I should say the girls did. It was lying in the drawer in that desk," he pointed.

Mikael looked at the picture of a woman more carefully, "Who is it of?" not truly all that interested but recognizing the work as Niklaus's. So the boy still drew?

"Lady Lockwood, My Lord," Bedell answered, blushing.

The woman that escaped trial by the Star Chambers, so this was the woman that he'd missed at Westminster? There was no need to question how she'd escaped the reaper's blade. The attention to detail, even from a few short glances at the picture, he could tell Niklaus had spent some time drawing this. He'd known her intimately, to sketch her sleeping so precisely.

 _That boy always was a fool,_ Mikael thought.

"How long have they been gone?"

"A month, My Lord, not a day past the fire."

Yes, Niklaus had been here alright and had left only destruction in his wake. But Mikael would never know the entire story, just how much was buried in this home, on those lands.

"Did they give notice of when they'd return?"

"No, My Lord."

After the fire, Kol and Elijah waited for Klaus until morning. Kol calculating all the places he'd search first for Lilly, perfecting the lie he would tell his brother,  _"I found her and the old woman on the road, ripped apart by the wolves."_

Elijah, closed his eyes, smelling smoke and blood in the air, well aware as he put together the pieces of the puzzle in his mind, how it had all ended. If Lyanna had survived, his brother would have brought her back sometime in the night as his prize, his little prisoner to torture in the wake of Katerina's departure. But Klaus hadn't returned and the smell of charred flesh only seemed to grow stronger by the hour. If he were a curious man he would have followed the smoke, leaving the woods after a night of fruitless searching. Elijah would have sought his brother on the grounds of Greyshaw Manor, amongst the carnage but Elijah wasn't a curious man. He was instead one of great control, balance, things he cherished dearly he held onto tighter than any his own family, honour or any promise he'd ever made Klaus.

Control, he'd keep it as long as he could and dictate the small things that were still in his power. He wouldn't descend upon Greyshaw Manor to look at the ruins. He wouldn't go to his brother as he slaughtered all those that remained and burned their bodies. Elijah, in this one instance would not seek out truth, to find the reality he knew was eventually unavoidable: Lyanna's corpse lying lifelessly somewhere in the carnage. He'd hold on to his image of her, alive, warm and beautiful for as long as he could. Elijah would keep that last bit of control he had left and not his brother, guilt, a duty or any promise, could make him relinquish that before it was time.

When he'd arrived, face blackened by soot and dirt, covered with blood, Klaus need not ask either brother for the whereabouts of his doppelganger. He knew without them having to say it that she was gone. His doppelganger had disappeared, taking with her his stone and any chance he had of breaking the curse.

Although he would come to believe Elijah had nothing to do with it, comparing notes and Trevor's story and revealing that he'd found the stable master dead. It seemed both Ines and Trevor had had a hand in foiling his plans. Klaus and Elijah's relationship however was never the same. Perhaps it was Katerina that had changed things for Elijah. Mayhaps it was Niklaus but most certainly it was Lyanna. It would always be Lyanna.

Cool, calm and collected, Klaus informed both Kol and Elijah that he would be leaving to find Katerina since they had failed him. Elijah offered his assistance, it was denied. Kol didn't say a word. He had plans, places he needed to go. Someone he needed to find.

As Kol left without an explanation, Elijah went to his rooms, collecting the few things he needed. Some private effects, among them a few of Lyanna's letters and Petrarch: her note inside. He'd carry that worn copy with him for the next 500 years.

In less than two days, before the church could even remove the bodies from the ash, Harte Manor was abandoned: the brothers scattering to the winds.

Over the years, Kol would return, often for his own reasons, Rebekah for a decade, Elijah the most often. The house was kept in perfect condition over the centuries, maintained by servants and help.

Greyshaw was never torn down; the land was never reclaimed or built on again. Immediately with his payment to the king for Lyanna's life (those few hours) of the house outside Venice and the rest of the promised small fortune, Niklaus wrote King Henry and acquired the ruined property from the English crown for a heavy sum. Greyshaw manor would sit for 500 years untouched and unattended to. The forests abandoned. The grounds that were once Lyanna's vast garden would bloom, vines slithering down six feet under the soil, wrapping around Lyanna's skeleton, her bones nourishing the land as the garden grew wild over what was left of the ruins of the great Lockwood Manor. The house would wither some with time, affected by the elements but essentially stayed forever frozen as a picture of haunted defeat.

In the centuries to come, there would be nights, many, where Niklaus would still hear her voice, see her waiting there him, standing there in the garden: ash falling into hair, eyes still bright and alive.

 ** _I'd like to show you something_** _…._ She'd say to him. And in those few moments of blissful unconsciousness, he'd agree and let her take his hand. Nights- days, when he would have this dream, he'd wake in panic because he'd lost her. The ash having fallen so thickly that he couldn't find her, his hand slipping from hers as she disappeared where he couldn't follow.

**_Will you leave me, Niklaus?_ **

He'd never return to Scrathclyde, Harte Manor or Greyshaw again. Not because that was where she'd perished and where it had all fallen apart, but because that was where she was- still. Her ghost lingered on the grounds, the ruins of the once great house, it wandered in the forest, swam in the lake, walked in the gardens. She would stay there forever, where she belonged, on the land that would never truly belong to him and his family- instead, belonging to her as it always rightfully should have been.

Niklaus avoided, for he couldn't tolerate the thought- her ghost haunting him forever and Elijah stayed or frequently returned for the opposite reason. In the early hours of morning, before the sun would fully rise over the horizon, he'd walk down to the edge of the property and wait for a glimpse of her.

Sometimes she'd come and others she wouldn't. But when she did... she was sight for those few brief moments.

She was still worth the love he had and pain his brother would forever feel.

Lyanna Lockwood: the light, their truth, the road to peace, that lead straight through hell.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Yes! We are finally done with Lyanna. Questions or concerns, please find your way to the INCYAL blog. Comments- that is what the review button is for. I wrote you 55k words... consider it. That is all I'm saying.**

**Look for the Christine scene and Kalijah excerpt this week on the blog.**

**I am aware Hayley's last name isn't Maxwell. When we find out from the Originals what it is, that will be changed.**

**Thank you!**


	6. Ghosts That We Knew, Flickered From View

**1493**

**Spain**

**Kingdom of Aragon, Valencia**

The girl's thick, dark hair spilt over Rebekah's fingers. She must have been staring at the girl for most of the evening, waiting for her to wake at any minute and be horrified. Ines's daughter was young, at most three and ten. Elpitia was plain, thin and altogether unremarkable; other than the fact that there was something truly wrong with the girl.

She was quiet, too much so. In fact so much so that it made Rebekah's skin crawl. The whole place, their little secret safe house seemed eerie. No matter how many candles Rebekah lit, no matter how many musicians she would compel to climb the three flights of stairs with their instruments, and crowd themselves into the little rooms of the home, nothing could fix the deafening silence. They would play all evening, into the morning, until their fingers bled, their voices hoarse from singing, and still in all of that noise of life; Rebekah felt as though she were haunting a tomb. Only the tomb was empty with not even ghosts to keep her company, no instead something decidedly more pathetic- just her and Elpitia wandering from room to room avoiding each other.

In the beginning she had tried, Rebekah had made every effort possible in those first few weeks to be civil and talk to the girl. Soon however, the weeks melded into months and still there was no response. When Rebekah spoke, the pale, dark haired girl stared at Rebekah with hollowed eyes and a blank face, as though she were deaf and missing every word.

She had tried to be polite. Rebekah had never been one to make exceptions for anyone besides her own brother but this time she did. In the beginning she tried to play the part of the hospitable jailer, taking her male meals into the other rooms, she had removed the carcasses before dawn; but the longer the girl remained silent the more hostile Rebekah became. Now she no longer bothered to shield the girl from the realities of her situation. She led men into their little home, starry eyed and full of lust; she would parade them in front of that quiet innocent girl, leaving her with the guilt of being the last person that would see many of them alive. But still the girl would not even offer a warning to those poor fools.

Maybe because she knew it was hopeless, that no matter what she did or said they would meet the same end.

Close by Rebekah would toy with her male trophies. Making them strip naked, she'd have them pleasure her in whatever fashion she deemed to suit her whims for that evening. For some of them, it was simple instructions. She would order them to pick up everything she dropped, tidy the room. Others, the tasks were more laboured and focused. They would start at her feet, undressing her as she advised. Some would be force to simply stare at her naked, admiring her only as Rebekah would wish to be admired. She would smile as she watched them struggle against the compulsion, fighting it so they might for just a moment touch her and relieve their misery. Others she'd give the  _privilege_ , but only as she directed. She'd only allow them so far, their faces pressed between her legs, adrenaline pumping through their veins before she'd begin the feed.

Then there were other times when there were no games, no little shows, just a simple lunch, dinner and death. Those were guests she allowed Elpitia to keep company with. Those were the men she paraded out in front of the girl, with no shame or sense of benevolence as she slowly drained them to their early graves. Rebekah would suck them dry and watch as the girl squirmed, holding back her disgust, her face turning a pathetic sickly pallor.

Tonight though, this night was different. It had been four months and still Rebekah had not heard a word from Kol. If she didn't know any better she would fear that he'd been daggered, like Finn, but Kol wasn't like Elijah, Finn or even her. He was quick. Any move to silence him by Klaus and Kol would already be three steps ahead, easily evading her brother's rash temperaments.

No, the absence of letters, Kol's silence spoke of something much more sinister. Perhaps he had forgotten or perhaps something much worse. Perhaps Kol was lost again, as he was for those first hundred years past death. Disappearing into the great unknown without a word, he had resurfaced much later by his own free will changed from when she had seen him last. After the first hundred years of absence he had come back a different man from the little brother she'd known: all the soft parts of him, the sweetness that had been there when they were children- gone. His wit had sharpened from a simple playful humour to something much more dark and cold. He was slow to warm as they left Italy together, so closed, lost for so long that at times in those first few years Rebekah wondered if she would ever meet her brother again. Then before she knew it, they were one in the same, a twisted puzzle that was both her and him, as if the others had never existed: Elijah, just a thought; Finn, a sorrowful memory; and Klaus, a nightmare; that if pondered on for too long would draw them back in.

It wouldn't last though and Rebekah knew it as sure as Kol did. Sooner or later they would be forced back to Klaus and Elijah, magnets drawn to the chaos. And then the free life they had, had with each other: doing as they pleased, keeping whatever company they had chosen and living unburdened in their own little world, would be gone.

Rebekah would remember the promise the three of them had made, by their mother's grave: always and forever. And Kol, he would disappear. He had made no promise, no ties, only to Rebekah. It was an understanding that when the time came and one was in need, as she was when Alexander had died, that the other would come.

As she sat by the bed of the silent girl, whom she had held as her hostage for four months, Rebekah knew that he wasn't coming back. Not to that little home she had made nor would Kol come back to Spain. Something was wrong, very wrong, only this time he wouldn't reach out to her as she had him. He was gone and as for when she'd see Kol again, Rebekah didn't know which left the responsibility of tying off loose ends to her.

They had agreed that if he should not return within three months time that she'd kill Elpitia: blood for blood. Klaus needed his witch and the two of them, an eternity without the tyranny of Klaus or the threat of Mikael.

Now, however when left with the task, Rebekah wasn't able to go through with killing the girl. Perhaps it was a lingering inability to vanquish the last person she could keep close- even if it was under duress. And it was that, which had left her sitting by that rickety little bed, staring at the face of someone whom she'd never heard speak, admiring Elpitia almost as if she were her own sister- the perfect sister at that (perhaps because she was mute).

Untangling her fingers from the girl's hair she smiled at her own patheticness and stifled the small twinge of loss she felt with the idea of all the different little girls she could find that would be so much better than Ines's daughter. She'd pick a chatty one this time, one that Rebekah could dress up in pretty little clothes that would entertain her and love her like a sister or companion should.

Rebekah's hand slithered up the pillow, hovering just above the girl's throat. She'd make it quick and snap her neck. It didn't feel right to make Elpitia suffer, especially when she looked so peaceful.

"We all must go sometime little girl," Rebekah whispered as a promise, more to herself that she was doing the right thing than to comfort a sleeping young woman who had no inclination that she'd never see daylight again.

Closing her hand around Elpitia's neck, the girl's eyes snapped open staring at Rebekah silently but not in shock but something completely off putting and unfamiliar in circumstances such as these. Brown little marbles peered up at their captor not with fear but acceptance.

It was enough to stop Rebekah, her fingers flexing against the girl's neck and then releasing. Just as Rebekah was thinking of something to say, some kind of anecdote, the girl looked away her eyes gazing through the open door down the hall.

And then it came.

A great rapping noise boomed through the home as the front door to their apartment flew open, the wood cracking as it made contact with the stone wall. Light poured in from the lit torches on the balcony, sounds from the streets filtered inside. Standing in the doorway the shadow stretched down the hall making  _it_  seem as though  _It_  were seven feet tall.

Elpitia hadn't moved, her eyes returned to Rebekah, her face no longer expressionless but instead clearly smug. But Rebekah was far too perplexed to even notice.

"Who are-"

Stepping forward into the hall, long legs dressed in dark green leggings, much like what the stable boys would wear dipped into the light. The intruder was clad in brown boots and a white tunic that hung loosely across her chest revealing that  _it_ was a she but unlike any female Rebekah had seen. The woman's complexion was san brunette, her hair long and black as tar, twisted into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder.

"Time to go, Elpitia," the woman called, her accent thick and unplaceable as she spoke in the local dialect.

When the girl tried to move, Rebekah wrapped her hand around Elpitia's shoulder, her arm slamming her back down onto the bed.

Rebekah's fangs had dropped, grey veins of rage spiralling down from her eyes, "Who the hell are-"

Before she could finish her question and move onto threats, Rebekah felt herself lifting up off her chair, the words catching in her throat. Sighing, the creature moved away from the door. As she walked each graceful long step caused the doors along the short hallway to fly open. They rattled against their hinges, some snapping from the binding as they crashed against the walls repeatedly with each step she took.

Almond-shaped, chrysochlorous eyes glanced at Rebekah, as her feet started sliding backwards over wooden floors. Rebekah's head and shoulders bounced off the wall she was tossed into, her lips popping open with an indiscernible curse that had laid lodged in her throat.

"Time to go, Elpitia," the woman called to the young woman again, as she stepping into the room. Without hesitation this time, the girl tossed the blankets against the baseboard of the bed, crawled out and was walking towards her rescuer without question or fear.

"Is she alive?" Elpitia asked, looking up at the woman she'd never seen before but knew to trust. Elpitia knew her mother would eventually come for her and if she could not for whatever reason there would be another, someone else, a messenger from Silas.

A pause passed between the two, before the woman motioned to the hall behind her, "Go."

The girl hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Rebekah who struggled against whatever it was the held her to that wall. It was then for the first time in four months that Elpitia spoke directly to Rebekah, "Goodbye."

The veins in Rebekah's neck pulsed, her face flushed red with exertion. Gasping she spat out, "Now she speaks!"

The girl smiled, watching, enjoying those few small moments left that they had with one another. As Rebekah gritted her teeth together, flashing an irritated smile, one that spoke of the throats she planned on slicing through with her teeth, the blood she planned on smearing on those walls, she realized she was unwillingly giving the girl the exact thing she wanted perhaps more than her own freedom for those four months: recognition. Not in words, talk, endless attempts at conversation. No, the girl Rebekah had held there in those tiny rooms against her will,  _she_ wanted it to be known that she may have been a prisoner but it was Rebekah that was drowning, in fear of silence and the things it really spoke of.

As Elpitia left, Rebekah was left struggling against the wall, watching the _loose end_ walk right out the front door. She could feel the enamel sloughing off her as she gritted her teeth together.

 _Damn Kol_ , that selfish prick. In that moment he was no better than Klaus or Elijah. Leaving her there to deal with shit like this, while he was off doing whatever it was that kept him from writing her: things that likely had nothing to do with detaching themselves from Klaus or eliminating their menacing deranged father.

After Elpitia had stepped out into the hall, the mysterious woman came closer, examining Rebekah's every move. She was coated in the smell of cinnamon and looked predatory, more than even Rebekah could have claimed of herself.

Leaning in until her mouth was inches from Rebekah's face she breathed, "Stop struggling," the words susurrating over Rebekah's cheek. Tilting her head, a queer smirk spread across her mouth as she watched Rebekah freeze, but from some compulsion or magic but the free will of distraction. Rebekah watched Farideh, enamoured ever so slightly never seeing a creature or woman quite like her before.

Licking her lips, Farideh's eyes traced Rebekah's face, "No brothers to save you? Poor girl, left to fight for yourself?" she clicked her tongue in mocking. Fingers reached out, touching the blonde hair that fell over Rebekah's shoulder. Collecting it in a bundle, she wrapped the hair around her hand like it was the tail of whip, forcing Rebekah's head to tilt as she gently tugged. Pulling a little too roughly, Rebekah's ear pressed clumsily against Farideh's mouth as she commented, "Maybe now you learn to survive alone… put up a better fight."

Releasing Rebekah's hair, she ran her finger teasingly down the side of her face, "Touch another witch again and I promise you, you will not look like this anymore."

Farideh lingered in front of Rebekah for a moment longer, before she turned to leave.

"The girl will die. My brother will find her!" Rebekah yelled out after her.

Turning Farideh questioned, "You think I am afraid of your brother?"

Still struggling against the wall, Rebekah answered, "You should be. If he wants her, he will find her and I promise she will be dead."

It was a weak threat, that Farideh should fear anything in this world when she had seen it all and lived four millennia more than the miscreant petty little vampire, Rebekah had threatened Farideh with. But it was obvious that Rebekah believed wholeheartedly in what she promised. It was clear that to her, this brother or perhaps brothers she used as a weapons were something she feared.

"Hmm… and why not you? Was she not  _your_ prisoner?" Farideh questioned stepping towards Rebekah, drawn back into conversation even as Elpitia waited outside.

Annoyed, Rebekah snapped, "I do not care if she lives or dies."

"Then why murder her?" It was a rhetorical questioned for Farideh knew the answer before she even bothered to ask. She was simply curious if Rebekah would admit the truth, if she even knew it yet herself.

Leaving an appropriate pause, Farideh broke out in a quick laugh, a smile flickering over her expression, "Your brother, the Halfling?" She laughed again only this time louder, not bothering to hide her clear amusement, before Farideh bridged the gap between her and Rebekah once more. Reaching out her finger wrapped around the talisman that hung from Rebekah's neck.

Struggling futilely to move from her grasp, Rebekah barked, "What are you doing?"

Farideh rubbed her fingers over the bobble that Rebekah had taken from Ayanna long ago and answered, "Shh… as long as Elpitia lives you will live… only without your brothers," pausing she made sure to make eye contact with Rebekah as she finished, "To remind you of what you almost took for no reason."

"What?"

"You heard what I said," Farideh answered looking back towards the open door where Elpitia waited. Lifting her hand, she rubbed her fingers over Rebekah's face, silencing her into a daze before she could say anything else.

"I am giving you a gift," Farideh whispered against her cheek, before she finished what she had promised and spelled Rebekah as she slept.

Hours later when Rebekah woke, she was lying on the floor, propped up against the wall. She felt as though she had drunk herself into a stupor the night before. Looking through the open doors however she knew it wasn't wine that had left her head pounding but instead an unfortunate encounter with a kind of witch she'd never met before.

The girl was gone, along with any previous plan Rebekah had formed the night before involving finding Kol or at the very least Elijah. Over the next few days Rebekah would repeatedly attempt to remove her necklace that Farideh had seemed so focused on, but fail to be able pry it from her neck.

She had been given gift, only it was one she didn't want. Although she felt no inclination to find any of her brothers Rebekah was determined to find the witch that had spelled her and so she would spend the next five centuries doing just that. Forever in the pursuit of the green eyed witch.

* * *

**1492-1495**

**Isle of Man, English Seas**

When he was still a child, human and naïve, Kol saw them once in the fields. Maybe he hadn't been a kid but it had felt like it. One century was enough to dwarf any human memory but five had made everything in his human existence feel as though it were insignificant, infantile and callow. Whatever ideals a boy of eight and ten had; had nothing on the realities a man, of five hundred and fourteen years, knew.

Maybe he'd chosen to forget those things from his human life, dismiss them because they seemed irrelevant. What could Kol have brought from that life that could possibly compare to centuries of feeding, fucking and living as he pleased?

They couldn't, simple as that.

There was, however, one memory, one thing he'd held onto. One, of the few nightmare- free moments of his human life that he'd stored away deep in the recesses of his mind and it was of Elijah and Tatia.

Odd?

Yes, indeed, but the human mind was a strange maze, tightly gripping some things, making tunnels of endless little caches, while walling off other oh so seemingly more important paths.

The story would evolve over the years; to where it was Klaus whom was the victor and Elijah the fool but as all stories go, the truth is in the perspective. Perhaps Klaus chose to be blind, Rebekah forever self-involved and Kol's parents were so absorbed in their own little tragedies that they'd never noticed; but Kol had and he knew. Kol had always seen her as more in love with Elijah than Klaus. Not that any of that mattered now.

His memory was nothing special or odd. It had no great ending or beginning- nothing to distinguish it from the many others that he had in a human life, but still there was something about it. There was something that resonated with him. The image of Elijah walking through the fields that had grown over, riddled with weeds. He was looking for her and she- him. What a perfect metaphor, for it was their game (what little Kol understood): who would find the other first? Who was more willing to walk those extra steps and keep looking?

The answer was neither and both. Neither seemed to search; for they always seemed to know where the other was, where they would go and how they could be found. It was a question of who was willing to make the first move, to keep moving and pursuing even when the other had stopped.

Why, of all the memories Kol would hold on to from his human life, was that one so strangely familiar and important? Perhaps it was human innocence: youth not yet impregnated with the lascivious realities of the immortal. Whatever it was, Kol envied it, wanted it even before he understood. It was the idea that he would search for something and it for him.

The only problem was that he was immortal so why should he wait? It was difficult to unlearn pleasures already known. To forget the easiness of how things could be, to accept the difficulties of how things were.

And oh- how it would be difficult for him. What Kol hadn't understood when he was human, was that the search took more than just effort. It took patience, not only to find what one was looking for, but to wait for it to find him as well.

After Greyshaw had went up in smoke, Klaus- crazy with rage, Elijah- silent with grief; Kol had fled Harte Manor quicker than the church could collect the bodies of those fallen. Foolishly he travelled north, deep into the highlands thinking he would find her. He was hoping that Lilly had listened to him, that she would trust him just that once as she had before everything happened.

They had travelled west immediately, but not without looking back. Lyanna had told them to go there, travel to the islands, places Klaus wouldn't think to look and blindly Lilly had followed. They would have been better off to travel east or perhaps even north but Lilly refused.

It took Kol one week and two days to find Lilly and Elspeth on the Isle of Man. Wishfully they'd disregarded his instructions to go north as they headed west. Elspeth and Lilly paid the boatman every last piece of gold they had to take them to the island. What they would do when they arrived and how they would survive, the women hadn't considered.

Any future they had, involved Lyanna. Part of Lilly, the rationale side of her, knew after a week had passed that Lyanna was never coming- that all of her fears had come true. But the foolish part of her, the same girl that had cut her hair and climbed into that wagon alongside Elspeth, even though she knew she shouldn't leave- that girl, wouldn't allow herself to believe it.

If she stayed, she had convinced herself that eventually Lyanna would come and that was how Kol found both her and Elspeth on the Isle of Man: in complete denial. They huddled together, in what little shelter they could find amongst the rocks on the beach. The wind coming off the water nearly killed the two women from chill those first nights. Wrapped in what few blankets they could find, coaxing the fire to burn through the night, their tears froze on their face, their stomachs filled with salt water and fear.

Kol found Lilly on the beach, one winter morning. The bottom of her gown soaked through, along with her slippers. Wrapped in a blanket, she stood ankle deep in damp sand and looked out over the grey sea, at dawn as if she were waiting for Lyanna's ship to come to shore.

What he expected, Kol wasn't quite sure. Mayhaps he was wishing, just as much as she, that none of it was real. That he could go back, do things differently the only problem was that even if he could, there was nothing to be done- even then.

This moment was inevitable no matter what he did. Kol had a made a promise to Rebekah that they wouldn't live like they had for so long- waiting for Mikael to show up at their door as he had when they'd first left Elijah and Klaus in Italy. He promised her that they would never have to run again and he meant it.

He should have stayed with his serving girls: short meals and long naked afternoons. None of that would have led him to where he was now: abandoning Rebekah and ruining the only thing besides his sister, Kol had ever found worth keeping.

"I am sorry." It was a weak opener and even as he said it, Kol knew that whatever words of contrition he had for Lilly would never be enough.

Turning, she found him on the beach, clothing in perfect order, not a detail of his appearance amiss or showing any sign of distress, when her whole life was in disarray.

"You," Lilly sneered, the mere sight of Kol causing her muscles to tense, adrenaline and cortisol pumping through her veins.

He had prepared for this kind of reaction in theory, rehearsing conversations in his mind but as he stood there in front of her the words began to jumble until all he could offer was, "I told you to go north."

A grimace of disgust passed over Lilly's face as she turned back to the sea, not giving him the satisfaction of her full attention, "Lyanna is not going north."

"Lyanna is going nowhere," Kol replied, making no effort to subtly state the obvious. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. This was the type of conversation Elijah would know how to lead or Klaus how to force. Elijah would have said the right thing. He could have spun words of apology that could have relayed the kind of regret Kol felt. Elijah would have found some way to explain to Lilly, that what happened was so much bigger than the two of them. Elijah would have, at the very least, made the effort. And Klaus, Niklaus would have simply forced the issue. He would have bullied her, known how to query compliance, not cower like a child that was being scolded. Klaus wouldn't have given a fuck what kind of damage he had caused and he surely wouldn't feel the overwhelming conflict of justification mingling with bitter regret that Kol was swallowing now.

"Leave," Lilly demanded, turning her back to him wishing nothing more than to grieve in peace- to hold onto her hope without Kol's interjections of reality.

Trying again, Kol took a step forward and reached out without thinking, "Lilly you are not safe here."

She turned on him quickly, her eyes burning yellow, "Neither are you," she snapped in warning, meaning it whole heartedly as the blanket dropped from her shoulders and Kol could see muscles tensing under damp cloth.

More reservedly this time, Kol attempted, "Lilly…." He had to reason with her. Kol had to talk some kind of sense into her. She couldn't stay here waiting for Lyanna, for Lyanna Lockwood was nothing more than dirt and bone by now. Lilly and Elspeth had nowhere to stay. No way of feeding themselves or providing their own living. They were easy prey for whatever that may lay hidden on this island and would surely be discovered sooner, if not later, by the villagers.

The blanket slid into the damp sand, collecting at her feet as Lilly took an uneven step forward. Her hand shook with rage as she pointed at him, "If you do not leave, I will rip your limbs from your body."

Holding his ground, fully prepared for the encounter to end in a physical squabble, Kol tried again, "Lilly- Lyanna… she's gone. You cannot stay here, he will find you." As he watched Lilly tense again, fingers balling into fists, her teeth gritting together preparing for an altercation, she surprised him when she suddenly stop. Instead of lurching forward and attempting to make good on her threats, Lilly bent and retrieved her blanket from the sand. Wrapping it around her shoulders once more, she did something far worse than lash out him, she simply looked away again, indifferently answering, "Go away, we do not need you. Lyanna is coming."

She was in a state of disbelief, trying to navigate her way through grief and Kol could appreciate that- he could respect her loyalty because it was Lilly's most attractive quality. He could tolerate her hatred for him because he knew someday that it would fade. But he could not withstand indifference, not in matters such as this because if time was what she needed, Kol had it but if his brother were to find Lilly, Klaus would quickly take away any opportunity Kol had to be forgiven.

"And when she does not? When my brother comes instead?" he continued, cautiously.

Lilly's head dipped ever so slightly- an unconscious acknowledgment that part of her knew what he was saying to be true. Lilly was proud though, too proud to admit that he might be right but even more so, she was stubborn, "I do not fear you nor your brother. We are not leaving until she comes."

Kol's thin patience snapped, "She won't, Lilly."

"Go," she replied, seemingly unaffected by anything he said. As Kol stood there thinking of some other way he could attempt to explain, impart upon her how serious the threat truly was and how both she Elspeth had come too far to be killed now, Kol's thoughts were cut short.

"Go!" she yelled, her voice echoing across the empty beach.

He could have stayed, Kol could have argued the merit of the facts all morning and still the words he supplied would have fallen on deaf ears. She needed time. Lilly needed what little he could give her now, to grieve and then, he told himself, she would listen. Then maybe after a few months she could let go and with even more time, maybe Lilly could forgive and they could move on together.

That was the handicap of immorality, when a person had forever loss became a constant until soon death meant little but to a human, loss was everything. With such little time, life was so much more precious and the end of it tragic.

It wouldn't be months for Lilly or even years for her to let go of Lyanna. What Kol didn't seem to understand was that to Lilly, Lyanna was family, precious and couldn't simply be forgotten or replaced.

Three years Kol would spend following her everywhere as they assimilated into the village, watching, waiting and hoping that someday she would feel differently, possibly change her mind or even forgive. The people of the Isle of Man were especially kind to the women, accepting them into the community without question. Elspeth and Lilly were given small tasks that helped supply them food and shelter. They lived a simple life but a safe one. Neither ever went without food, shelter or wood to heat themselves when needed. Perhaps growing up privileged and sheltered Lilly thought all humans embraced strangers that way, Elspeth, likely knew better but was too old and too protective of Lilly to deny the help that Kol had so obviously provided them. Lilly may have refused to allow him into her life, as she and Elspeth eked out there humble existence on the Isle of Man but she was never without him. What influence Kol could use in the way of compulsion he did so without question, making sure that women were provided for and assisted in any way they needed within the community while allowing both Elspeth and Lilly to keep the illusion that they were completely autonomous from Kol.

He kept his distance, not at first. Imprudent, he tried repeatedly to approach but as time wore on and Lilly held her resolve Kol learned to play by her rules and respect her boundaries. He stayed out of sight and what he feared to be out of mind. But on the full moon frequently, he'd be bold. Lilly had found a place down on the beach where she would sequester herself on those nights. Elspeth's gnarled, arthritic hands helping to tether her to the boulders lodged against the walls of rock that lined parts of the beach.

In the spring the tide would be so high that Elspeth could not stay through the night as she usually would. It would force her, as the sun would dip below the horizon to crawl her way back from the beach to wait out the night in their hut. In her absence, Lilly would change. Bones snapping, her spine curling, fur bursting through the pores of her skin like spikes as the sea would come rushing up the shore beating against the rocks the water would come as high as Lilly's waist, leaving her fur to lie damp and matted against her shifting body.

The change was a grotesque, horrifying sight. Lilly never looked more pathetic than when she was tethered to those rocks. Her fur handing limp against her bowed legs. Her head jerking against the boulder in rage, she would slobber with anticipation, practically foaming at the mouth she would snap and growl at him as sat with her.

Those nights were the shortest. There was never enough time. At any moment, if a chain were to break she would rip out his throat or try. Lilly would have littered his body with venomous bites that left Kol dazed, nauseated and easy prey. It was piteous, no getting around it. She was a shadow of herself on those nights. Little remaining of who she was for Lilly on a full moon was only one salient thought: kill. And still Kol counted the days till the next full moon, each month in the spring. He waited until he'd have that time alone with her, even if it had to be like it was: her as something else and he an intruder.

Desperate men did lamentable things.

The day Elspeth died, Kol found her kneeling on the dirt floor of their hut. He had known it was coming for months. The old woman's body had deteriorated past the point of use. She could no longer walk; feed herself or control her own bowels. Perhaps it was illness that had caught her or age but surely some of it was heartbreak. Elspeth held on for three years after losing her daughter and only then because it was Lilly that had sustained her. Soon enough though, death had come calling for the old woman- the dream that she could go home. Back to Greyshaw Manor once again not as it was now but as it was then. That promise of possibly seeing Lyanna once again, was too great to hold her in this life, even for Lilly.

Elspeth passed in the summer months of the year of our Lord, 1495. There was no great cry that was sounded throughout the village to alarm Kol. It was the silence, the absence of Lilly's voice speaking to her, comforting her, the stillness that had fallen over their hut that told Kol it was time.

On the floor of their hut, Lilly held that old woman so close her, that from behind they looked as if they were one person. Kol must have stood there for close to a quarter of the evening, quietly waiting outside the door in the cover of darkness before Lilly finally called out to him, "I know you are there."

Moving further back into the shadows, Kol didn't respond. He had come to offer his respects and support, not to incite Lilly on today of all days.

Silence fell between them for great span of time before she addressed him again, "How long will you wait?"

It had been three years since Lilly had spoken him. She had made it as though Kol didn't exist, like she couldn't see him even when she had.

"I am not waiting," Kol replied.

"Then what is it that you are doing?" Lilly questioned, laying Elspeth's body back onto her tiny mat.

"Existing…." Kol was living the life he had been dealt and existing it was and just barely at that. He lived as he hadn't for centuries- like an animal. Kol slept in a shelter he'd made just off the shore. He kept himself separate from the human population, separate from Lilly. Respecting the life she'd made with Elspeth. He lived in seclusion. He fed on animals, the sick and the elderly. He spoke with no one, only to himself and those he compelled to forget would he could take the isolation no longer. It was a lowly woeful life. One his brothers surely would mock in disgust.

It was barely more pleasant than hell, but only so because of those moments in the spring on the shore. But it was surely a purgatory Kol was living in, one much more agonizing than the Christian version he'd heard of in his travels.

"What do I have left?" Lilly murmured to no one but herself. It was a reflection, a rambling thought of a distraught woman.

"Me," Kol replied a little too honestly, too eager and most certainly too soon. Selfishly he broke the boundary they'd held so well for years and tried to step inside but was stopped.

He was not welcome, then or now. The invisible wall held him separate still and he was not naïve enough to believe that even in a moment like this Lilly would invite him inside.

There was a pause, one that was too long to be thoughts of contrition and too short to be surrender on her part but just long enough to give Kol hope. Then Lilly shrugged her shoulder, rolling it upwards in disgust, "No," as though she were refusing his touch.

It was one word, one syllable and a definite refusal.

"Leave me," her words dripped with hate, a kind he was all too familiar with. And like a silly wounded creature, Kol felt himself harden with the rejection. Too proud to walk away though, and too in love to give up he stood there like a dog waiting to be kicked once more.

The silence stretched out between them for seconds again before Lilly yelled, "Go!" Elsepth crumpling in her arms. Tears spilled down her cheeks, snot running from her nose. At any moment Lilly was bound to break into hysterics, weep for all the things she'd not had the courage to do so for in the years previous: Lyanna, her home, Katerina, Elsepth and Kol. How she wanted to grieve for the death of everything she thought they were but she couldn't. Grief implied love and she didn't love him. She didn't think about someone that had taken from her everything she once  _had_ loved and she didn't miss him.

He needed to leave. Lilly needed Kol gone right that moment before she revealed just how weak she really was, swallowed her pride and admitted that she couldn't do it alone. Not with Lyanna gone and Elspeth leaving her as well.

Luckily it was Kol's pride that broke before her own.

"Fine!" he called back to her, like a petulant child, "Stay here in your rat hole. You think I care?"

"Go…." she whispered again, not concerned with his thoughts, she wrapped herself around Elspeth and rocked back and forth, reassuring herself once more as he left that she meant it.

He did care though and wasn't that just the crux of it all? Kol cared, so much more than what he wished to, because that was the story of him and Lilly. They would never be the passion of Rebekah and Alex, the tragedy of Klaus and the hunters, the dream of Elijah and Tatia or the promise of Finn and Sage. They were all of it- sometimes something else, something foreign and intimidating but certainly something more.

That was the sticking point, the thing that sat in the back of Kol's throat like a lump that couldn't be swallowed and tickled around the edges of his unconscious mind like the unscratchable itch that would drive him mad.

They were inevitable. The thing he couldn't run from. He could try for a thousand years, with a thousand different women, in hundreds of different countries, in even more beds. But all of it- every single last desire, need and want, would lead him back to this shit hole of a place-some dinky little island in a God forsaken sea.

One shitty little hut, in the middle of nowhere that held the only thing Kol was willing to wait for no matter how long it took.

_Where Lilly went, Kol would go, and where she would stay he would live. Her people would be his and her God, his forever._

They lived like that for years, rats cobbled away in their little nests. The Isle of Man was a cruel place with harsh winters and fleeting summers. No man of any worth or a full set of teeth would settle there. For there were times…. oh so many, when Kol wasn't so dedicated, he wasn't so loyal- frankly he wasn't so pathetic as to wait for something that may never come and so he left. He'd travel to London, Glasgow and the occasional Dublin to feed and fuck as he pleased. He'd prey on any woman that was half attractive that he could find with long dark hair and dark eyes. Kol would stay, feeding, drinking and fucking as long as he could tolerate, as long as Kol could lie, telling himself that he was satisfied living any other kind of life. Inevitably however, he would always come to the same realization that he was  _not_ and wander back to the Isle of Man. Kol would return weeks later like a dog with his tail between his legs, perched outside her dingy little hut just within the cover of the trees, waiting for a glimpse of Lilly to tell him that he was right to come home, no matter what wreck of a place it might have been.

If life was simple or kind, this would be the part when Lilly would change her mind. When all the things that had come to pass at Greyshaw Manor would have been forgotten: fires unlit, tears uncried and lives put back together. But life was neither simple nor easy and neither would be their story.

Kol didn't wait one year, five or even fifteen. A prisoner of the Isle of Man, Kol waited fifty five years for denial to play its last cord and Lilly to accept that the family she waited for would never come. She was the stake and he the string, circling forever in the field that was the Isle of Man.

Inevitability- it is the thing one is unable to be avoid, evaded, or escape; a certain necessity, that is sure to occur, eventually happen and someday come true.

He and Lilly were unalterable, if for no other reason than because eventually one knew that after the first had made their move the other would eventually follow.

* * *

**1494**

**Kotel, Bulgaria**

The day she died was the first time Katerina opened her eyes to whom she really was and what she could be in this world. There was grief in death, the stages a person must pass through to process loss and Katerina would be no different than any other that had come before her.

Her grief unlike so many others however, wasn't for dying and never again being human but instead for having survived. She lived and everything she knew had burned in her wake. Lyanna had told her not to look back and so she didn't. Kat woke in Grace's cottage and on instinct, fed from and hastily killed the old woman that had allowed her into her home and sheltered her. When she lay cold and dead on the floor, her eyes apart, the flesh of neck flayed open for viewing, Katerina knew it then, as perhaps she always had: she was a monster. The snake that had laid coiled and camouflaged under sweet smiles and pleasant words, now slithered from its cage- not be confined again.

The blood curdled for a moment in her stomach, a pathetic whimper whispered past her lips;a second of complete self-pity and hatred. It was only for a moment though, that she wallowed in regret before she crawled from that dirt floor and began running as soon as she saw the door. Night would be over soon; the smell of charred flesh and cries filtering throughout the thick forest would serve as a reminder of what she had left behind.

Katerina had no time to think on that however, she had to find shelter. She had to escape; but most of all, she had to survive. Katerina made it through that first night, finding her way to the edge of the forest and into the nearest village, as the sun began to burn her skin. She killed the first man she found. He had lived alone, his hut set slightly apart from the rest and as she fed from him, this time she'd felt no regret. Never one to look back for too long, Katerina grew leaps and bounds in her denial in even those first few hours after she awoke into her life of living dead.

For the first year, she did nothing but run and feed. Moving south, it was by chance that she missed the clans of wolves that would have sniffed her out and slaughtered her long before Klaus. Slowly, using the charm she had honed for years and compulsion, which she was quick to master, Katerina quietly crawled her way out of the Britain. On instinct she moved east, eventually reaching Poland but not daring to go further south: home. She may have been a child still, in her unnatural youth, but Katerina was still no fool to flee to the first place she would be easily found.

That first year was perhaps the worst. She knew not what had become of Lyanna, Lilly or Elspeth nor could she go home to her first family. Instead, she lived in relative seclusion. Relegated to only moving at night, she hid amongst the people. Killing the weak and elderly, taking shelter in their homes, teaching herself, discovering all the things a maker would and should have told her.

When the spring and summer months passed and the air turned chilly once more, Katerina could stand it no longer. The purgatory she lived in was worse than any hell Klaus could have subjected her to or even imagined. Let him find her if he wished. Let him kill or torture her. Katerina no longer cared. It was time-she had to go home.

It took her close to a month to travel south. Where before she would have stayed away from the roads, hid from crowds now she boldly led the horse she had stolen down the dirt path, that lead past the farmlands she had once carried water through as a child. A cloudless evening, Katerina could see the fence post where her green eyed boy had once left her flowers. Her hand reached out, fingers rubbing over the worn wood in memory.

_Rough grass, soft hands and a patient voice- she gave him things no other man would take: a kind, uncalculating part of herself that had dried, cracked and broke when she was forgotten for the first time._

Katerina didn't know what to expect, as she turned the last corner down the lane where her home had once been. Perhaps, she thought, she'd see smoke rising from the chimney, the dog resting by the door. Her father would hear the horse and look out the window, watching her as she approached in the night. He'd open the door, lighting his pipe, the dog would rustling and bark once or twice from the ground sensing, like her father, that someone approached. He'd squint into the night, sucking on his pipe a little longer and wait for her to announce herself, until he saw her.

At first he would be so overcome with surprise that it would fall from his mouth as nothing louder than a whisper,  _Katerina…_

He'd turn, looking into the warm light of the home and call to his wife,  _майка!_ Then her mother, meeting him at the door, looking out into the yard, would see that her eldest daughter,  _her_ Katerina, had finally returned.  _Mайка_ would drop the rag she held, her hands coming to her mouth in shock and then a smile would have spread over her face, tears in her eyes as she ran to Kat.

She would pull her from the horse, embracing her, just as Katerina had dreamt all those nights she was away. And then it would be her sisters running from the house. They would tug at her skirt and press their faces into her shoulder and neck, and things would be as they should have been always.

In her mind, Katerina would have been so overcome by love and relief that they wanted her, they cared that she was back, that it all would be forgiven- everything that had passed before. And that was when she would have looked up from her mother and sisters and found her father resting still in the doorway. It was then that little Katerina, would have been shy once more. She would have been unsure of herself, afraid that he was still mad- that her father hadn't forgiven, but in this dream, he had. He would reach out his hand and call to her,  _Katerina… my daughter. His_ daughter, she would be his once more and not some stranger that had been sent away. She would belong to someone once more when he embraced her, kissed her hair and didn't notice that this time her skin was cold, her reflexes too quick. Everything would have been as she imagined because in those moments Katerina would have told him all the things she was too proud to say before:  _I love you, Papa._

Never would she have had that regret in her fantasies because that was what Katerina had imagined every night that first year she was born into the living dead. That was the image she held onto and soon realized she would never have.

The further she passed down the lane, the more she worried that perhaps it was too dark and she had taken a wrong turn in her excitement. Perhaps her eyes had deceived her and she had missed her home but she wouldn't be so lucky.

When the dirt road could go no further, she tugged on the horse's reins, her leg slipping over the side as her feet touched the ground. Where there had once been a house, a home and love, there was nothing. The door was wide open, the dog nowhere to be found and not a light turned on. Stepping closer, across the small yard, the smell struck her before she had the chance to cross the threshold.

It was death- the rotting stank of putrid flesh.

Picking up her skirts Katerina stepped inside, only to find that no longer were there four walls, but only two. The whole back half of the structure had been burned or torn to the ground. Her feet, connected with a cold, dark mass lying on the floor. Hands shaking, Katerina ran back to the horse. Throwing open the side bag, she retrieved the flint stone with its striker and untied the tethered lantern. Lighting the wick, she moved cautiously back towards the house, afraid what she might find.

There, not three feet inside the door, laid the dog. Its black tongue hung from its mouth, eyes pecked out by birds or other animals. Disembowelled; maggots crawled around in its open flesh. Her arm shook furiously as she held the lantern out further, squinting as she peered into the darkness. It was there that she found them: spread out through the small kitchen and into the bedroom. The light dropped from her hand, clattering on the kitchen table not a half foot from where her sister laid. Faced down, her arm was outstretched against the wood as if she were trying to crawl away. There was a hole punched through her ribs, shattering the bones in its path.

Her heart, Katerina's dear loving sister's heart, lay where it had been tossed, next to her feet that dangled from the table.

"Pavla," her hand reached out to the little girl. Stepping forward, Katerina found her father mounted to the door. His sword skewered through his upper abdomen while his head hung by his shoulder like his limbs that dangled inches from the ground.

"Papa…" Katerina whispered, her lips trembling, tears rushing down her cheeks, dribbling over her lips.

And her mother, faithful as ever, had fallen only feet away from her father. On her stomach, she seemed to be lying on top of something. Dropping to the ground, Katerina gripped her shoulder and gently nudged the body back, finding her youngest sister, Nevena, lying underneath.

Her heart dangled outside her chest, holding on by a thin thread of tissue. Looking from her sister to her mother, whose throat had been ripped out, her eyes still wide open in horror as she' likely had tried to save her child, Katerina gagged and choked on vomit and her own cries. Grabbing her mother's lifeless body, she clutched her close to her chest as Katerina's hands pressed her mother's lifeless face against her cold inhuman neck.

"Mama!" Katerina cried, "Oh Mama, please… Mama!"

Frantically she rocked her rigid body, back and forth as her mother had done to her when she was sick as a child, "Please Mama," she stuttered, kissing her hair, tugging at her soiled clothing as though she'd respond, "I'm sorry…" Katerina gasped, mouth open eyes closed.

She could have been there for minutes or days, times stopped: a year of fear and power, hunger and loneliness drifting from her mind. It was gone, everything that she had dreamt of in those early nights, that had kept her going, kept Katerina moving, thinking, plotting of all the different things she would do that would make it okay for her to come home.

But perhaps that was why Katerina truly didn't come home. It wasn't because of Klaus. It wasn't the fear of what he'd do to her. It was knowledge of  _this_ \- of what Katerina knew was likely true.

Klaus was never going to let her live. Katerina may have escaped that night, but he'd hunt her, kill everything she loved until there was nothing left for her in this world. He'd not stop until she surrendered if only to force it all to finally end. That was how Klaus hunted, how he preyed on his victims and how he killed those that betrayed him. It was the slow torture, the agonizing game that would bring them crawling back to him for relief. It was then that they would welcome his hands around their throats, his fingers crushing their hearts.

The wind had picked up slightly, the horse shifting its weight, the rustling of its mane against leather straps. Had Katerina been human, had she not had a year to adjust and hone her new abilities, she would have missed it.

Laying her mother's head across her lap she looked out, past the walls that had been burned to the ground, through the dark night and the fields. She had been happy here once. She had given birth to her child there, in that very bed, the same one in which she had dreamt of her green eyed boy.

It seemed now as though all of that was just a dream, so far gone that it was as though none of it ever existed.

Letting the tears trickle down her cheeks she questioned, "Have you come to kill me?"

"Have you come to kill me?"

Elijah stood just outside the light that spilt from the lantern and although she couldn't see him, Katerina could paint the expression he wore in her mind when he sighed and quietly replied, "Not today, Katerina."

She had disappeared as though she were made of ash and wind, part of something else once but now she was something much different: changed from the woman he'd chased around the gardens of Harte Manor.

It didn't take long for the brothers to realize that Rose and Trevor had disappeared the next morning. Grace, the widow from the woods, dead in her cottage, her throat ripped out carelessly as if she had been mauled by an animal.

If he hadn't thought it a thousand times before, he'd be fool to not know it now. She could sense him long before any natural means would allow. Katerina, the girl that could laugh for forever was gone now. Burnt to ash like everything else his brother had touched on English soil.

He'd followed her trail through London, into northern France before she had disappeared altogether. Klaus was less interested in wandering through woods, checking small villages. He went straight to the source. He followed what little he knew of Katerina and slowly traced his way back to her family. He was sure to leave a message, one the girl would never forget. He crushed the world around her and would wait for Elijah to bring back the wounded creature.

Sooner or later, she will come, he'd promised Elijah and he was right as he seemed to be on matters such as these. Elijah had picked up word of her in the southern lands of Poland. A beautiful woman traveling alone was a rare thing in those times. She had called herself Agatha. It was a strange name for her to choose. One that did not conjure images of a young, attractive woman but instead perhaps a mother or a widow.

Now she was an orphan.

"Today you grieve," he finished after much time.

Elijah couldn't see her face but he knew she was crying. Part of him was relieved that he was given only her back for part of him wished to hold onto the memory of the woman he'd met at Greyshaw Manor, the creature that could seduce a man at 20 paces, that laughed without apology and seemed to not understand loss. That was the woman that had been left in his mind, one that was untainted with this kind of sadness.

They would come, they would take and they would destroy; it seemed that death and sadness was the only thing that followed wherever the Mikaelsons went.

If Katerina Petrova was not destroyed by the curse or the fire, she'd be forever changed by this and perhaps that was the burden that Elijah was not yet ready to bear, the weight of his own responsibility as he was no longer able to hide behind his chivalrous facade. Klaus was right, somewhere lurking behind his loyalty and commitment to a cause was a small piece of humanity Elijah tried to keep hidden and safe. If Klaus's was lost, their siblings just as numb, then someone would have to keep what little their parents- their mother- had tried to preserve, alive but that person would not be Elijah, for he was no fool.

He knew he was no better than the rest.

"Why?" she whispered, her hands covering her mother's eyes and closing them to the world.

"It is all we have." Katerina had to die because she had been chosen long before she was born. Her family laid rotting in this home because she fought against inevitability and lost. Whatever moment of friendship and understanding they may have thought they had tried haphazardly to form in the past, was destroyed long before that house had burned in Scrathclyde.

Loyalty and family, it was all Esther's family had now and would for forever. The things that her children had become, the creatures their mother would have surely hated and their father hunted, were still the same four siblings that had once been part of a family; much like the one slain before him. Their humanity may have been lost and their empathy drained from them, like blood from a victim, but somewhere those children that grieved their brother's death were still there. If Mikael won, if they were killed before they could find the reason for it all- why they had been chosen, why nature had allowed them to survive, then it had all been for nothing.

There had been a time when Elijah embodied everything that Katerina wished to have in life but would forever be just out of her grasp. She would have betrayed Lyanna. She would have forsaken her second family. She would have given anything, if she had never had to pay the price she was now.

"Have you not come to kill me?"

"No," he answered, taking another step back. It was a lie, one of so many he had told her over their short acquaintance. He had come to kill her. Not directly, not by his own hand but Elijah had come to lead Katerina to death just the same. Now however, he had changed his mind. Elijah would let her live because that was what the man she had met years ago would have done.

Elijah did it because he was just as selfish as Klaus but perhaps much more naive because somewhere he still believed himself to be the better of the two. But if he were, if Elijah were truly the more benevolent of he and his brother, he would have killed Katerina then and not left her to live the rest of her existence with this memory.

"Then why are you here?"

Elijah had followed her for close to four days so that he could trap her amongst these rotting corpses and bring her to his brother so that he may do with her as he wished. Perhaps the witches could still perform the ritual. Elijah had come to discover where she had hidden the moonstone. There was a debt to be settled but when he saw her there on the floor, weeping over her mother all he could think of was Rebekah holding their own mother. How he had lied to both her and Kol, telling them both that it was their father that had slaughtered her. He had pushed the image of his Klaus's hand ripping their mother's heart from its cavity out of his mind and told his two youngest siblings what he thought they wanted to hear.

Even in that, it seemed Elijah was wrong.

He had come to settle a debt with his brother but instead he would so with a friend. Elijah gave Katerina this moment for all the moments that he had lied to her, manipulated her and used her in the past. He would do this for the innocent girl he'd chased through the garden, the one that carried something so honest and ugly inside her. He did it not for Agnes but for Katerina Petrova whom would soon be as dead as Elijah Mikaelson- the boy from a village in the New World for it was in that moment when he first realized that they were equal.

"You will have this but then you will need to run," he started, "I will hunt you. I will find you and when I do, I will take you to my brother so that he may finish what was started in Scrathclyde."

Perhaps Katerina should have been scared but to her his threats were meaningless, "Leave me."

Elijah paused, sparing another look at the girl he once thought he knew before he left, disappearing into the night. In the morning, the hunt would begin again and Katerina would likely not get far, but for now he would leave the dead to grieve those that would not rise again.

Katerina stayed on the floor in her childhood home for hours, soaking in her last moments with the family that knew who she really was before all of this had begun. When she could sense that morning was near, Katerina left that home at the end of the lane, passing the forests where she had made love to her green eyed boy. Moving through the neighboring village, she compelled two men to go back and bury her family, even the dog, for she couldn't do it herself. Katerina wouldn't see them go into the ground. She wouldn't see their bodies disappearing beneath dirt but she would visit their final resting place multiple times over the next century.

The first time Elijah had found Katerina there, he had given her amnesty and each time would be no different. Katerina would return home every so many decades. She compelled those that lived around the ruined house to leave the property as it was, without disturbance, as a memory of what was once there long ago.

When she would return to their memorial, Katerina would sometimes feel Elijah there or perhaps it was only her imagination. Regardless, he would not hunt her there not in that sacred place.

There was a time for debts and a time for grief and those that grieved would not have debts to be paid. That was the beginning of what would become Elijah and Katerina. They had met at Greyshaw Manor in 1492 when she was Katerina Petrova and he Lord Mikaelson, and over the years they would be many things to one another: enemies, competitors, one the cat and the other the mouse, companions, lovers and sometimes friends. But if they were nothing at once or anything ever again, they would always be equal.


End file.
